#We can move this into the plot drop zone if you like!!

[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + six

authors note: i really like how this one came out. hope you guys do too.

i use some psych terminology, so just as a lil glossary: pt=patient, dx=diagnosis, hx =history, fx=functioning status (mental stability, essentially) and hopefully everyone can understand the rest with context clues.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: fluff, language, medical report following suicide attempt, discussion of sexual abuse, mention of torture

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 10k (i don't know how to write short chapters, clearly)

The last thing Solana expected to wake up to is a handwritten note left for her in the same journal she deposited on Roman’s bed despite her better judgment. She was filled to the brim with anxiety regarding that bold decision, asking him to do something she’s certain is miles outside of his comfort zone.

She expected him to ignore her. 

What she didn’t expect was for him to reply.

Reading over his words, Solana struggles with the ease of his acquiescence. He indicated it could be short term, but she’ll take that, because it’s a hell of a lot easier for her to talk to this man if it’s through written word.

And the last part. 

There’s nothing you can’t tell me.

There’s actually a lot she can’t tell him. A lot he can never know. No one can know, but the sentiment behind it…..it has her puzzled. He has her puzzled. 

Solana grabs the journal and scans the kitchen for a pen when a thought crosses her mind. She bites down on her bottom lip, forever battling with the idea of something vs the actuality of carrying out the plan.

In a plot twist, she sides with the plan and pulls out her phone, searching for Roman’s contact.

She types, deletes, and does so again at least three times before settling on a text that really could have been conjured and sent in seconds vs the solid ten minutes she takes to issue it out.

Solana: Hi. Thank you. Do you think we could text too? I know that writing is my thing, but I can text if that’s easier for you too….thanks.

Solana nearly tosses her cell phone on the large slab that is his granite kitchen island and moves around to figure out what she’s going to fix for breakfast. The perfect excuse for her to not think about the knots in her stomach at her message. It doesn’t stop the overthinking though.

What if she’s asking too much? Pushing him too far out of his comfort zone? It doesn’t take long for her to regret her decision, wishing it was still within the time limits to unsend her message.

And then her phone dings.

Solana nearly drops the egg she was about to crack over the skillet. Swallowing, she places it back in the bowel as her feet slowly carry her to the phone that has now dinged a second time. Her fingers dance against the sides of her pants, stretching and scratching the cotton. 

Lifting her phone, she unlocks her phone and heads straight to his thread.

Roman: Yes.

It’s a simple response that makes sense for him and is beneficial for Solana who sighs in relief at his agreement. She stews on how to respond, eventually settling on a simple thank you as well as answering his question. The least she can do. 

Solana: Thank you…

Solana: And I don’t work this weekend. 

Solana: Can I ask you something?

Solana again starts chewing on her bottom lip as she mentally berates herself for bombarding him with messages when he’s probably in the middle of working.

But even so, that doesn’t stop him from replying almost instantly.

Roman: You don’t have to ask if you can ask me something, Solana. Just ask. 

It’s hard not to imagine the frustration on his face at answering her question while also having to remind her of what he’s already stated at one point or another. 

Solana: Okay…

Solana: Where are we going?

She’s unsure if he will respond and has accepted that he may not, which is okay with her. He’s already being more responsive than she initially anticipated he would. And Solana is barely able to put the skillet on the fire before her phone is buzzing again.

Roman: You’ll see.

His answer makes her frown. It’s not what she wanted to hear, but it’s also not a complete disregard or verbal lashing for asking a simple question.

Solana prepares to leave it as is when Roman’s voice is in the back of her mind, nudging and reminding her of his desire for her to communicate with him more.

Nervous fingers type out an expression of said nerves.

Solana: Okay….surprises just make me nervous. 

She doesn’t have time to put her phone down when those three dots appear, indicating he’s typing.

Roman: It’s nothing bad.

Roman: I wouldn’t lie to you. 

And for some strange reason, Solana believes that. Roman doesn't seem like a man to lie in general, because he’s too blunt for that. 

Unless….

Unless it’s one of his mind games, because he is notorious for that. Still, she can’t find a reason why he would waste his time playing one of those with her. 

Solana: Okay. Sorry to text you while you’re working.

Roman: You’re apologizing again.

Roman: And I don’t care. 

Roman: I’d rather talk to you than listen to the twins bullshit.

Solana tries to not put too much into his words, into him saying that he wants to talk to her. It’s not that he directly wants to speak to her, more she’s the lesser of two evils. Nothing to get into her head about.

Solana: They’re kinda funny….🙈

Roman: You’d feel differently if you had to deal with them all the time. 

Solana: Fair.

The exchange is so in the moment, back to back, that she doesn’t put her phone down again until her last message. She then returns to preparing her breakfast. 

Solana is frying her eggs, adding in seasoning when her phone dings again. Wiping her hands on her apron, she expects a message from Bayley or even Naomi.

Especially Naomi. She needs to talk to her about what happened, apologize for putting her in what must have been an awkward situation.

It’s neither of them.

Roman: How’d you start writing?

Roman continuing or prolonging the conversation isn’t something she saw coming. But, the message is right there in white writing against that gray background.

Solana briefly debates how honest to be in her answer, deciding to step a bit out of her comfort zone in offering more than just her usual three to five word responses. 

Solana: My mom. She spoke English, but she wasn’t fluent, so she’d write letters to me in Spanish, and I’d have to respond in English so we both could learn.

Solana: My dad wouldn’t let her teach or speak it around me and Wes so that was the only way I/she could learn.

He stops replying after that, and Solana feels stupid for being so open, for not just giving him a simple answer with all of the unnecessary verbiage.

And then her phone goes off.

Roman: Not surprising. 

When he doesn’t say anything else, Solana debates on whether to end it there or follow up with another question given that he asked one first. It feels like returning the favor or reciprocating manners.

Hence, she decides on texting him again. 

Solana: What is that language you speak to the twins sometimes?

Roman: Samoan. I’m fluent. Italian and English as well. 

That’s not entirely surprising. Roman is obviously a well educated, well rounded man. 

Roman: You’re more perceptive than you let off.

Solana: Maybe. But no one ever cares what I have to say or think, so it doesn’t make sense to share it. 

He stops replying after that.

And Solana tries to not think too much about her disappointment, moving around the kitchen to finish fixing breakfast as a distraction.

A poor distraction, because not even twenty minutes later, she’s ready to check her phone again even if it hasn’t made the special sound that makes her belly flutter. However, the sound of the doorbell pulls her from that premature excitement.

Solo comes to meet her in the kitchen informing matter-of-factly, “it’s Naomi and Bayley.” 

Solana stills. That’s definitely not someone she expected to see so soon. Neither of them.

“Invite them in?” Solo’s voice tinges with borderline irritation, which she can understand.

Cheeks reddening, she apologizes. “Yes. Sorry. Of—of course.”

Solana hears Bayley before she sees her. “Damn. This is how it’s like to live as the Tribal Chief's wife? Maybe shit isn’t so bad after all.” The two walking in wearing friendly smiles brings back Solana’s grin.

“Hey there. We wanted to come check on you.” Naomi introduces, the first to ask, “is it okay if we hug you?”

Solana doesn’t hesitate as much as she would expect herself to. “Yes.” 

Naomi also doesn’t hesitate and steps forward, hugging Solana in such a sincere way she’s not sure she’s experienced in years. Since her mom. 

And Bayley does the same, maybe even a little tighter.

The three of them sit down at the kitchen island as Bayley asks in a sympathetic tone. “How you doing, lady?”

“Better.” It’s an honest answer, and Solana can’t help but think about the additive that it’s largely due to Roman. But, she keeps that part to herself. She looks at Naomi. “I’m so sorry—“

Naomi lifts a manicured finger to silence her. “Girl, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I’m sorry I didn’t know what was going on. You could have told me too, but I get it must have been hard for you.”

This part had Solana deeply nervous, the part where she’d have to ‘face’ Naomi after causing such a scene and getting the whole place shut down for an entire day, So, for the woman with the penchant for bold colors that look delightful against her complexion to be so understanding and empathetic, it means a lot to Solana.

It means a lot that Bayley would also even tag along when she wasn’t even part of that chaotic ordeal.

“Just know you can tell us anything. We’ve got your back,” Bayley affirms, adding with a smirk. “And clearly your big bad husband does too.”

We’ve got your back.

Solana doesn’t even know where to begin comprehending and swallowing that. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t have too long to be in her head, because Naomi starts talking again. “That was wild,” she comments with a shake of her head and then looks at Solana. “Oh shit, you probably don’t know, do you?”

Solana’s stomach does the opposite of butterflies, the uncomfortable clenching and twisting that accompanies anxiety. “Know what?”

There’s no delay with the answer.

“Theory and Waller are dead.” Solana wasn’t sure what to expect to hear Naomi say, but even if she tried to guess, that would have never been one of her options.

Confusion is painted all over her face. “Wha—what?”

Dead.

The two men who just yesterday caused her to breakdown and revert back to her teenage years where dissociation was her coping mechanism, the men who’d been sexually harassing her with zero regards for her as a human and even more, as Roman’s wife….are dead.

It feels almost impossible to be true. 

Bayley backs up Naomi’s assertion, adding, “yeah, he had their bodies, or what was left, displayed at the Warehouse this morning.”

Chills travel up her spine. “W–why?”

It’a a word aimed towards a lot of the questions Solana has unanswered. Why are they dead? Why did Roman kill or have them killed? Sure, she expected there to be some form of punishment, merely for the simple fact that messing with her was a clear sign of disrespect toward him, which the Tribal Chief would never tolerate. But, for them to be killed, in such a what sounds like a gruesome manner, and their remains to be left for all to see?

Why?

Bayley answers with a shrug of her shoulders. “To send a message.”

Solana is surprisingly fast with her follow up. “W-what message?”

Naomi is quick with the answer, but in general, she seems to be knowledgeable about a lot of things Bloodline. “You’re Bloodline now. No one messes with us. And you’re Roman’s wife? Yeah, he’s making sure everyone knows what happens if they even think about fucking with you.”

It lines up, Solana reflecting back on Roman’s departing declaration the night before.

“I told you. No one lays a hand on you. I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

She just never expected such a….big message. 

“Honestly, they were fucking creeps anyway.” Solana cannot and does not disagree with the first part of Bayley’s statement, the second part, however, is iffy for her. “They got exactly what they deserved.”

Solana neither agrees or disagrees with that.

“I’m thinking we do your training from here for a little while,” Naomi suggests. While her initial response is to apologize for any inconvenience this may cause Naomi, Solana can’t deny the fact that just the thought of walking back in that building right now makes her physically ill. “I know Roman got a state of the art gym here and that massive backyard of yalls? This will do just fine.” 

“Oooh, I gotta see this.” Bayley then asks, “Solana, are you working today?”

“No, I called out.” Solana needs at least a day to get her mind right, hence taking today off.

Bayley then suggests, “Naomi and I were gonna go shopping. Why don’t you come with us?” 

It's an interestingly timed question given one of Solana’s text exchanges with Roman not even an hour ago included him informing her that the stack of envelopes on the kitchen island earlier were her new set of cards, all linked to his accounts. 

And he made sure to reiterate again that there is no limit. For any of them.

Bayley then decides and declares, slapping her hand on the island. “Matter of fact, we’re not asking. We’re telling you that you’re going shopping with us.” That is something Solana is familiar with, never being asked, always being told.

It’s just rare, if ever, it’s something that isn't entirely bad or terrible she’s being told she needs to do. 

“I’ve been wanting to take you shopping for forever anyway. Because as sweet and great as you are, Solana, you dress like college freshman meets Billie Eilish.” Before Solana can ask what exactly that means, Naomi explains. “So much neutral and dark colors. And everything is oversized. I can tell you’re kind of insecure about your body, but you literally have no reason to be because you have an amazing shape.”

Solana doesn’t say anything, but her hand naturally goes to one of the scars on her arm from that night. 

Naomi notices this and advises in a gentle voice, “we all have scars, Solana. Some you can see and others you don’t.” Solana has both, and it’s a miserable experience. “That doesn’t mean you have to hide them and be ashamed.” 

“Naomi is right.” Bayley agrees, and something tells Solana she’s going out shopping today whether she wants to or not. “We are going to help you learn to embrace your curves one better fashionable choice at a time.” 

________

Solana can probably count on one hand how many times she’s gone shopping in person over the past couple years. Maybe longer. She mostly sticks to online shopping when she is in need of a couple new pieces, always sizing way up so she can assure that it fits. More so drapes over her body, but that’s always been the preference.

She’s also never shopped at stores where the price for a single item can be upwards to three to four figures, which apparently isn’t the case for Bayley and Naomi.

Cause one of the first items they pick up for her is a single blouse that reads $650.00 on the price tag. Solana nearly faints when she reads that. That’s probably the entire cost of her wardrobe put together. 

She’s starting to regret telling them about Roman adding her to his accounts. Naomi especially seemed thrilled at that, and she seems to be the one piling the cart with more and more items. Bayley also offering her fair share of contributions.

All the while Solo keeps a safe but comfortable distance, wearing that infamous stoic expression, Solana can’t help but wonder how he must be feeling about this, about having to spend his time watching her while she shops. It can’t be enjoyable for him at all. She feels sort of bad. 

“Oh my god, you have to try this on.” 

Feeling bad for someone else morphs into feeling bad for herself, to a certain extent, when Solana sees the dress that Naomi is holding up for her. 

In all interactions, Solana does her best to be polite and kind, to never invite a volatile or mean response. “Ummm, I don’t—I don’t think that’ll look good on me.”

It won’t look good for a lot of reasons, the main one being it’s too small. Solana can see the thin sleeved dress is intended to be form-fitting—another major red flag—but even with that, it’s obviously a size, or eight, too small.

Naomi makes a sound. “Girl, that’s just how it looks. It molds to your shape, and with all your curves, I know it’s going to be a killer look.” She then pushes it in Solana’s direction again. “At least try it on. You never know unless you try.”

But Solana does know. She knows this dress is going to draw attention to all of her flaws. The rolls, the pudge of her belly, her big arms, and those damn scars. But, she also doesn’t want to be rude, so she agrees, disappearing in the dressing room before emerging a couple minutes later, never once checking her reflection before doing so. 

She walks to where the ladies are waiting, asking with an awkward shrug of her shoulders, “well?”

Naomi gasps. “Holy shit, that looks amazing on you, Solana!”

“Of course it does. You see that body?” Bayley joins in on gassing her up, adding, “it really does look good, Solana. We wouldn't lie to you.”

Huh. That’s the second time today Solana has been told that. 

Bayley then instructs her to look at her reflection in the full body mirror of the dressing room, a dreaded task but one she makes herself complete. 

Solana does her best to try to be as neutral and not negative towards her appearance, but it’s hard when she keeps honing in on the scars on her arms, the one on her face, not to mention her weight and how, to her, it just seems too much. 

Her father’s sharp and consistent criticism starts to return to the forefront of her mind when she notices Naomi snap a photo. Turning on her heel, she asks with a level of nervousness, “w–what are you doing?” 

“Helping you to realize how bad as hell you are.” Naomi says it so casually, so calmly, turning her phone toward Solana. “See.”

It’s a thread, a group chat, and along with the picture Naomi just snapped, there’s an accompanying text.

Naomi: Solana is being stupid and thinks she looks bad in this dress. Please prove me and Bayley’s point. 

Solana’s eyes go wide when she realizes just who is in this group text. Jimmy, Jey, and Roman. 

Her stomach is twisting all over again. “Naomi, I—I don’t think—”

Naomi’s phone chimes, and a smile grows on her face as Bayley moves closer to Solana. 

Naomi starts laughing and then smirks as she flips it so Solana and Bayley can read. “I rest my case.”

Jey: Damn, Soso 👀 Hell yeah, she look good. Goddamn! 😫

Jimmy: I GYAT to start coming over to ya’ll house more, Uce. 🍑

Bayley makes a wolf sound, playfully shoving Solana whose cheeks are reddening by the second after reading the surprising response from the twins. She definitely either expected no response or an either kind or unkind disagreement. “We told you, girl. You look amazing.” Bayley then comments, directing her statement to Naomi. “Man, you and Jimmy definitely have a strong ass relationship, cause I’d be ready to kick his ass.”

Naomi shrugs, simply responding. “We trust each other. I know it stops at just looking for him. Same for me.”

Her phone makes a sound, and she reads whatever the latest incoming messages are, instantly rolling her eyes. “Roman is such an ass sometimes.”

Solana’s ear perks up at the mention of his name as she asks, “what did he say?”

Naomi turns her phone again so Solana can read for herself, her stomach twisting with anxiety when she reads his trenchant reply.

Roman: Shut the fuck up.

Roman: Unsend this shit, Naomi. Now.

But before Solana can panic about his response, her phone dings and she pulls it out to see his name on her lockscreen. Instead of delaying the inevitable, she unlocks to read his response, anticipating the worst.

Roman: You look good.

Roman: But you always look good. 

Solana has to read his text a couple of times before it actually registers. He thinks she looks good. Roman thinks she looks good. Even more, he thinks she always looks good. Solana doesn’t know how to take that, even though there really is only one way to take such a message.

Bayley and Naomi being the bit of nosy Nancy’s that they are, sneak a peek at Solana’s phone and also read his text. Bayley is the first to speak, displaying that knowing dimpled smile. “Ha! See. The Tribal Chief himself has spoken.”

Naomi and her share a laugh as Solana finds herself also with a small smile. Roman had told her the night of WarGames that she looked beautiful, and she hadn’t really known how to take that either, chalking it up to the face full of makeup and fancy updo.

But this photo Naomi snapped and sent shows her without a lick of makeup on, hair messily pulled back and out of the way. It’s literally just her in a dress, a dress she normally would never dare to brave, but something Roman apparently thinks she looks good in.

“Does…..does he really think I’m beautiful?” It’s a question she never intended to leave the safe confines of her mind, but it’s a rebel, sneaking its way out and landing on the doorstep of the two women before her.

Bayley, as per usual, is the first to speak. “Is that a serious question? Of course he thinks you’re beautiful, because you are. You’re absolutely stunning, Solana. You have to see that.”

“Most of the men at your wedding kept commenting on how pretty you are. And your boobs, of course, because men have no couth.” Naomi rolls her eyes but continues. “And as someone who has had the displeasure of knowing Roman literally since we were in elementary school, I can tell you that you’re 1000% his type.”

Solana doesn’t believe that Naomi has reason to lie to her. Bayley either. And as Naomi has been around the family for so long, her word has to be true. But, Solana has a hard time separating the fact that Roman, who has someone as beautiful and unflawed like Samantha, in the same vein, could think someone like her is beautiful. 

Samantha is beautiful, and someone he can actually touch.

Because regardless of how he views her, it all comes down to that. Physical intimacy. One of many things that Solana can’t give him.

But Samantha can.

Samantha does.

That’s why she was in the house that day, doing what Solana should but can’t because she’s too fucked up, too damaged, too broken. 

Bayley reaches over with a comforting hand, switching to Spanish. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t. You’re beautiful, Solana. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Fuck anyone who’s ever said different.”

Solana isn’t quite sure how to describe how grateful she feels in this moment, to have such support, to have people be so genuinely and sincerely supportive. She hasn’t had that in so long, she’d almost forgotten that it was possible.

Emotion thick, she responds in the same language, “thank you, Bayley.”

“Okay, now that’s just not fair. I wanna know what’s going on too.” Naomi’s protest and almost childlike pout makes Solana smile, a nice break from the heavy emotional experience going on in her head. 

“Just some girls supporting girls shit.” Bayley shrugs and claps her hands together. “Okay, now let’s see what sexy little red pieces we can find for you….”

________

Texting and writing with Roman on and off for the rest of the week was never on Solana’s agenda, but it’s exactly what’s been happening. 

And she has no idea what to make of it. 

Every time there’s a delay with his response, she assumes that’s it. That’s the end of the conversation. Only for her phone to buzz with not only a response but usually a follow up question.

It’s almost as if he wants to keep the conversation going, but that can’t be it. She can’t see why he’d want to speak with her.

Even if he literally stated that he’d prefer to talk to her than listen to his cousins bicker. Still, his entire day can’t involve their presence. There has to be some separation at one point or another. 

But even with that, he’s consistent with eventually replying, acknowledging her messages even if the responses come hours after her first one was sent. 

And for the life of her, Solana cannot find a good or logical reason as to why her stomach flutters with a modicum to medium level of excitement every time her phone dings. 

Because she thinks it’s another text from Roman.

Because she’s enjoying speaking with him. Because she seeks out opportunities even while working to check her phone and see if he’s text her. It’s not traditional communication, and she’s certain there’s no way in hell she’d be able to talk to him this freely, this comfortably if it was verbal. 

Not a chance.

But in texting, she finds a level of ease that makes it significantly easier to get to know him. And maybe that’s what it is, she has some level of desire to get to know him more. If this “marriage” is to last, whatever that looks like, it feels like she needs to know more about him other than that he’s big, strong, and a killer.

Those traits more than speak for themselves, but there’s gotta be more, and there is. Like her now knowing he speaks three languages fluently and would like to pick up another someday if he ever has the time. Or that he works out at least twice every day and doesn’t feel right if he can’t get in at least one workout.

Similarly, Solana finds herself reciprocating his sharing of information, small facts that aren’t major but make a smidge of difference. Like her love of books and words. The few shows she enjoys. She especially doesn’t understand where that comes from. The sharing on her end. It’s something similar like her growing relationships with Bayley and Naomi. 

But that’s different, so so different, for a variety of reasons. One, they’re women, and while anxiety is something she struggles with in interactions with all individuals, regardless of sex, it’s much easier with them than men.

And Roman is not the average man, far from it.

He scares her.

Or does he? 

Solana has been struggling to make sense of the fear that often cripples her and the behavior he’s shown her thus far. They don’t add up. Sure, he’s expressed irritation and a level of anger towards her, but both were more than warranted. And even in those moments, there was still a level of control and composure. He didn’t scream at her. Didn’t belittle her. Didn’t hit her. 

And his words from earlier that week circle back around to the front of her mind.

Even that day at her job.

He’s made it clear now two times that he has no plans or desire to ever hit her. Initially, that didn’t mean anything to Solana, because she’s never known a man in her life to never beat on her. The second time, it made her start to wonder if he was telling the truth.

And now, in a week of genuine and okay interactions, maybe even good interactions, that wondering of the truth is gradually meshing into believing.

Especially because something tells her Roman’s not a man to lie, not unless he’s playing one of his infamous mind games. And what reason would he have to play a mind game with her of all people?

She’s nobody.

But not enough of a nobody for him to end the conversation, which she’s expected all week but yet to see happen. Even more, a part of Solana feels like he’s also wanting to keep the conversation going, matching her with the questions vs just responding and leaving it as is. 

And Solana appreciates it a lot, maybe even to the point where she’s gradually starting to appreciate him.

If she doesn’t already.

It’s why she doesn’t mind waking up earlier than she already does to fix breakfast and get ready for work to do something for him that she hopes he views as nice while he gets in his morning workout in the home gym.

Finished and almost too nervous to stay around for his response, she grabs the notebook, leaving a quick message before heading up the stairs to get in at least another hour of sleep as there’s still leftovers from yesterday’s breakfast.

Roman,

I noticed you tend to start off your breakfast with a protein shake. I saw how you make it, so I figured I’d just make it for you. Less for you to do.

Hope that was alright.

Solana

________

Roman didn’t plan to text and write Solana as often as he has. It just…..happened.

She was right in that communication does seem smoother and even easier through this channel. It’s also nice to “hear” her communicate without all that damn stuttering and stammering. Her texts and letters read so much better than actually listening to her speak aloud.

Not that her voice isn’t pleasing to some extent. It is. Soft and almost melodic, minus the fucking stutters. 

Roman is in the middle of reviewing income spreadsheets when Jimmy walks into his office and

drops a stack of paperwork on top of Roman’s desk. He then plops down in one of two chairs opposite his cousin. “Solana’s medical records.”

Roman is pleased, thankful to the Wise Man for his promptness regarding his request.

“There is something you should know though.”

Instantly, Roman is annoyed, because he recognizes that tone of Jimmy’s. The tone that lets Roman know he’s not going to like what he’s about to hear. “What?”

“Apparently, information is missing.”

“What do you mean it’s missing? Find the fucking hospital that has them. I want all of her records.” Roman’s orders were clear as day, and he fucking hates when even with comprehensible issuance, there’s still a fucking problem. 

“That’s all that’s available. Paul said the records indicate shit was deleted or something. Like cleared out of the system.” Before Roman can express his dissatisfaction and suggestions, Jimmy explains, “He said he consulted with Pearce to see if he could retrieve the files, but even he couldn’t get them. Something about systems changing over time and not being compatible. You know, all that tech shit Pearce be talking.”

Roman was right. As always. He’s annoyed.

Because he knows exactly who would have had a hand in something like this.

Xavier.

He expresses as such. “It was Xavier. Son of a bitch probably had it deleted somehow.” Roman knows Miller has hands and ties in the medical community as well as social services, though that power and leverage has definitely dwindled over the years due to Miller’s mounting financial problems. However, around the time Solana was a kid was very much the peak of Miller’s paltry empire. 

“What exactly are you looking for, man?” Jimmy asks, trying to get a read on his cousin, never an easy feat. If at all possible. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it’s obvious Solana been through some shit. You really need to know all of it?”

It’s a sound question that Roman isn’t certain he has the answer for. Knowing just what Solana has been through could be helpful in helping him understand her better, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t know why he’s even bothering with that. Why does he even need to understand her better?

“I mean, just what happened to her mom could be the reason for a lot of her….struggles.”

“That’s part of it.” Roman’s certain of that, but he also knows there’s more. “Her father and brother were abusive.”

At that, Jimmy appears shocked. “What?” His expression quickly turns into a scowl. “That’s why you had us handle up on ole’ boy? You should have said that was why. Would have broke that bitch left hand too.”

“I’m going to kill them both before all is said and done.” And that’s a fucking promise, an oath. Their days are numbered. “But until then, I’ll keep them away from her.”

“That must piss them the fuck off.”

“Exactly.” Beyond making sure they don’t fucking touch Solana, Roman recognizes flexing his power and authority by cutting off all contact between them is something Miller and his boy must find infuriating. They’ve clearly thrived on controlling and torturing Solana, but that shit is over. 

Solana is Bloodline now.

No one fucking touches her.

“Well.” Jimmy blows out a big breath and shrugs his shoulders. “I just hope you know what you doing, Big Dog.” 

“Don’t I always.” Roman mutters, opening the manilla envelope to start going over the files. “Jimmy.”

“Yeah?”

“Have Naomi continue to do Solana’s training from the house.”

“Come on, man, my girl is already on that. She said Soso’s been getting better and better too. ” Jimmy answers, explaining, “I think she and Bey should be over there right about now anyway. Feels like they always over there these days.”

Roman wouldn’t entirely disagree. He gets regular updates from security regarding any and all happenings at his home, which includes a list of visitors, and Naomi and Bayley have been consistent on that list. 

Roman also understands now why Solana hasn’t replied to his latest text.

Not that it bothers him. A lot, at least. He has shit to do anyway. 

A couple minutes later, Jimmy leaves, and Roman is left alone to venture into the next task on his to-do list. 

As expected, Solana’s medical records consist of a lot of emergency visits for accidents. Sprains. Broken bones. Fractures. Endless bruising, hematomas even. The visits eventually die down, but Roman suspects it’s not because the abuse stopped or paused. More likely they stopped taking her and she tended to her wounds herself.

But, the largest section of her records is the most telling.

Subjective: PT is a 16 y/o mixed race female currently admitted following SI attempt. PT was reportedly found in bathroom by family maid and transported to ER by ambulance where she was formally admitted. PT does not appear fully oriented to person, place, and time. PT offered minimal responses to questions and would only speak when prompted. PT denies auditory and visual hallucinations. PT reports wanting to be with mother who is deceased. PT reports no will to live. PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. PT observed to become teary eyed following this acknowledgment and would not speak on nature of trauma. PT began to cry and moved into fetal position after being asked reasons for attempt. PT was heard repeating the question, “why didn’t you let me die?” PT became unresponsive after this exchange.

Assessment: PT presents with flat affect and depressed mood. Presents with poor insight and impulse control. PT’s wrists medically wrapped. Faded scars and bruises observed on PT’s arms, legs and partially faded bruise on left eye. PT also has scars on both arms and face, reportedly from knife attack during childhood.

Objective: PT does not appear stable enough to be released from care. Fx is severely impaired. I suspect a long history of complex trauma, confirmed sexual abuse, and suspected physical abuse. Medical records from client’s initial admission indicate “numerous” pre-existing cuts on PT’s inner forearms, indicating repeated incidents of self-harm. I deem PT to be an imminent danger to herself and suspect a release would result in another SI attempt.

Plan: I strongly recommend client be transferred to an adolescent residential facility or kept inpatient at hospital where she can be monitored and placed on medication regimen as well as participate in intensive individual and group therapy to assist in mood stabilization.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life. 

Diagnosis: F43.10 Posttraumatic Stress Disorder w/ Dissociation 

Roman keeps reading over this section of the file, but there’s one part that stands out the most.

PT indicated yes with a head nod when asked about hx of sexual trauma. 

That’s the part that Roman can’t seem to move past. He’s read it all. Every fucking word. And it’s all horrific. But, it’s that one sentence, that one damn sentence that confirms what he’d started to suspect, had gradually started to put the pieces together to see the much larger, darker picture.

She’d been touched. He doesn’t know to what extent, but regardless of the specific nature, at fucking sixteen years old, she’d already been violated.

A single swoop of his big arm across the desk sends all of the items once neatly situated sprawled across the cherry wood flooring. Roman stands up and slams his fist down on the table, head down as he tries to calm his suddenly shot nerves.

Livid. He’s livid.

The Bloodline is a lot of things but that has never and will be one of them. It only took one time for some fucking piece of shit to even suggest the Bloodline enter the world of Human Trafficing to increase their reach and profits even more for everyone to know that’s where the line in the sand is drawn.

Roman’s never put a fucking bullet in someone’s head so fast. 

The same urge he has currently.

An urge that’s almost instantly lessened by a small amount when his phone lights up and a name appears across his lock screen.

Solana

Eyes shutting, Roman runs his hand over his face and snatches the phone, unlocking it to view her text.

Solana: What time will you be home tonight?

Instantly, Roman feels a lessening of his anger, reading her message, almost hearing said message in her gentle voice. It’s a distraction but both a reminder of why he’s all upset. Solana’s softness doesn’t equate with the violence she’s experienced, the violation, the pain. Especially as a fucking child. Roman has never understood and has always been especially infuriated by violence against children. There’s wrong and then there’s immoral. 

That’s beyond immoral.

Roman will never deny he’s committed his fair share of sins, earning a VIP spot in hell when that time finally comes, but that is something he could and will never get behind.

Solana: Just so I know what time to have dinner ready by…..

Her follow up is typical, always explaining what she doesn’t have to. 

Roman gives her the best reply he can muster up at this moment in time.

Roman: Not sure. Don’t worry about that. Probably won’t get in until late.

And he truly doesn’t know, because going home in this state of anger won’t do her any good. He told her he’d try to be mindful of his temper around her, and this is just that. He doesn’t want to scare her. 

He needs an outlet.

But, here lies the fucking dilemma. 

Since he was a teenager, Roman’s outlet has always been sex. He’s the type to fuck away his feelings. Working out also helps, but sex always took the cake, helped out sometimes just a smidge or a shit ton more. 

And in a different kind of world, he’d do just that working out with the same woman he finds himself infatuated over. His dick stiffens in his pants thinking back on the picture Naomi sent and wisely unsent to his disrespectful ass cousins. 

But not before he could save it to his camera roll.

Roman has never and will never deny his physical attraction to Solana. She checks every box for him in that category, but she’s not an option. He can’t touch her. He can’t touch her because some fucking piece of shit did just that to her when she was essentially a child, and now she can’t stand to be touched because of it.

Roman finds himself returning to his previous level of rage. 

He needs to work this off him.

And he knows just how.

Grabbing his phone and switching from Solana’s thread to hers, he shoots out a simple text.

Roman: I’m coming over.

________

True to his word, Roman gets back late after an…..interesting visit to see Samantha. Somewhat worth it, but mostly now just another irritating thing he has to handle. Not that her being upset bothers him in the slightest.

She can fuck off and ride off into the sunset for all he cares. 

Granted, the non-asshole side of him, more a small section than a side, can understand why she was upset with him.

He just can’t find it in him to give a fuck.

What he does find, however, is something else.

Roman steps into the living room and sees none other than Solana sleeping on the sofa. Confused, he quietly moves closer in her direction and sits opposite of her on the sturdy, mahogany wood coffee table.

And he watches her, studies her sleeping expression, wondering if she had another nightmare. The possibility drags him back to his earlier disposition, the reason he didn’t allow himself to come back to the mansion at a more reasonable time.

He didn’t want to expose her to that. To that side of him.

Without much thought, he reaches for her face, fingers gently caressing the smooth skin of her cheek. She feels so soft, a stark contrast against his roughness.

In more than one area. 

He’s not sure if she felt his gesture or, like him, is just a light sleeper because her eyes slowly start fluttering open. He waits for her to become more aware and cognizant, and she does, whispering, “hey.”

He matches her low volume. “Hey.” Roman studies her, asking, “you alright?”

She nods, gradually sitting up, and he tries not to notice how instead of wearing the type of baggy shirts he’s noticed she likes to sleep in, she’s donning a thin sleeved top that accentuates her chest. “Yeah, I—” She closes her mouth, and he can tell by the way her brows furrow slightly that she’s trying to figure out how to word whatever she wants to say. “You seemed off. I just—just wanted to make sure you were okay, but I guess I fell asleep….”

It’s Roman’s turn now to not quite understand or make sense of what he’s hearing, so he asks, still in that subdued voice, “you waited up for me?”

Roman can’t recall the last time anyone cared when and even if he made it home. He doesn’t know how to feel about this. At all.

With a sheepish expression, she nods, “tried to, at least.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” And it’s the truth. He doesn’t know why she would in the first place anyway. “It was just….a long day.”

Solana nods, “I get that.” He also takes note of the fact that she’s not stammering as much, doesn’t seem as jittery as he’s used to seeing her. “I should—I guess I’ll go to bed now.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, just sits back so she can stand up without him being too in her space. He especially understands now why that’s such a big thing for her.

But, it’s when she stands that his gaze seems to travel to her inner forearms, faded scars now having an even bleaker meaning as he now has the full story.

Another sentence from her medical report whizzes back to him.

If released and left untreated, it is my belief and professional opinion that PT will eventually be successful in efforts to end life. 

He should write it. Roman knows this. Knows that she’d probably respond better and be more comfortable writing, but he also knows it makes him feel almost physically uncomfortable with having to wait to get a response.

He’s much too impatient for that shit. 

He needs to say this shit now.

“Solana.”

She’s halfway to the staircase and turns around, “yes?”

Roman’s never been one to beat around the bush, so he gets straight to the point. “You used to cut, right?”

Always perceptive, Roman sees the shock in her face at his question, the unease that brews as she nervously runs her hand along the side of her cardigan pajama pants. “I—yes, but—not since….it’s been a long time.”

He half expected to have to ask her about the last time she actually did it, though he can tell by how faded the scars are that it has been quite some time, so he believes her. Knows she’s telling the truth.

Still, he needs to make something perfectly clear.

“Any of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I don’t care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.” His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what he’s asking of her. “Understand?”

Solana looks just as confused as he feels as to why this is suddenly important to him, important that she knows she can come to him if those dark thoughts and urges occur. But still, she agrees, acknowledging in that same small voice.

“I understand….”

________

The breeder is only about a half hour out from the mansion, allowing for a drive that’s on the shorter side than what Roman was initially anticipating.

Just like he successfully anticipated Solana’s nervousness throughout that entire drive. She keeps looking out the window, most likely trying to navigate where they’re going. And if not for the unexpected but necessary business call he had to take that lasted almost the entirety of the drive, he would have tried to calm her nerves.

He’s realizing he doesn’t like seeing her so on edge.

When they arrive, Roman is the first to exit the SUV, circling around to open the door for her. She offers a nervous smile and steps out, Roman’s eyes darting to her ass, the sway of it in her yoga pants as she moves a bit away, taking in the average two story house in front of them.

She looks back at him, and he redirects his focus to her eyes, big, brown, and just as innocent as the rest of her. “Where—where are we?” 

Paul also steps out of the car, almost immediately coughing and waving at some flying insect that whizzed at him. “In the middle of nowhere.” He then sets his cautious gaze on Roman. “My Tribal Chief, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have terrible allergies—”

“I don’t care.” Roman cuts him off, speaking to Solana, gesturing with a nod of his head. “Come with me.”

A part of him wonders if she’ll hesitate, freeze up on him, maybe even refuse. But she instead moves closer to him, walking along his side as he leads them up the steps of the porch. He reaches for the doorbell and is almost instantaneously met with the sound of barking. Interestingly enough, one glance down at Solana and he sees a spark of excitement that chips away at her nerves. 

A couple seconds later, the door opens revealing a middle aged white woman wearing an inauthentic smile. The kind of smile someone forces for a business meeting or possible transaction.

“You must be Mr. Reigns?” She correctly guesses, eyes then landing on Solana. “And you must be the Mrs?”

Roman places his hand on the small of Solana’s back, noticing how she initially tenses but, surprisingly, relaxes just a few seconds later. “My wife, Solana.”

Solana offers a small wave and polite hello but nothing more.

“I’m Beverly.” She introduces, but Roman doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to know shit about her except whatever her price is. She steps aside, motioning for them to come in. “Please.” He allows Solana to walk in first, followed by himself. When Paul doesn’t also follow suit, Roman turns around. “Wise Man.”

Paul, complexion starting to become pinkish, politely declines. “I’ll just wait here—”

“Wise Man.”

“Coming, My Tribal Chief.”

Once all three are inside, Betty or whoever, offers something to drink which all three decline, shortly after which the woman asks, “so, are we looking for—”

“It’s for her.” Roman motions to Solana who looks at him still wholly confused as a teenage girl, who looks like the spitting image of her mother, descends down the stairs. “Whatever she wants.”

Betty’s eyes light up as she directs the teenager. “Honey, can you take her outside to see the puppies?”

“Sure.” The teen’s voice is annoyingly preppy, like nails on the chalkboard, like a fucking cheerleader or something. “Follow me.”

Solana again looks at Roman, as if for guidance, but he only nods, encouraging her to follow. She’s still reluctant—he can see as such—but ultimately follows the blonde out the backdoor. 

As soon as she’s out the door. Betty starts with the irritating sales pitch, talking to him about the history of Pomeranians, the benefits of that breed, dietary guidelines and other things he couldn’t give two shits about. It’s why he doesn’t hesitate to take the business call the minute his phone rings and instead advises Paul to listen to the woman talk. 

He moves to the front of the house, securing another layer of privacy and doesn’t even hesitate to walk right past a wheezing Paul to head out back where Solana is once the call is over.

Roman finds her outside in the spacious yet somehow closed in yard. She’s sitting in the grass, legs open as a tiny dog, a puppy, moves back and forth between sitting in Solana’s lap and running in a circle before coming right back to her. Roman realizes she’s playing with the freakishly small animal, but beyond that, she’s smiling.

And laughing.

Roman can’t recall the last time, if ever, he’s seen her do the latter of the two. Even her smile is much larger, much more genuine than he’s seen her offer in the short time he’s known her..

“That one.” The woman, Bonnie, who came outside at one point with Paul, moves toward Roman. “She wants that one.”

Bonnie steps forward and frowns, slapping on that disingenuous smile he’s learned how to read all too well with years of experience working with people. “Oh no, that one’s not supposed to be out there. My daughter must have forgotten to pull her.”

Roman really does try sometimes with people, but they always end up fucking annoying him one way or another. “She wants that one.”

The woman stutters. “I–I’m sorry, but that dog is already under contract.”

Rolling his eyes, he asks, surprisingly calmly, not wanting to necessarily cause a scene in front of Solana. “How much?”

“Pardon?”

Roman does his best to hide his irritation at having to repeat himself. “How much?”

Betty releases a nervous smile, crossing her arms across her badly built body. “I—I can’t sell you a dog that’s already under contract, sir.”

Politics. It’s all politics. Roman knew the second Betty’s smile grew as her eyes landed on his Hublot watch that she saw this as a great, unexpected windfall. And she’s not entirely wrong. “Everyone has a fucking price, lady. Name yours.”

She stutters again. “Sir, I—I appreciate the interest, but that dog comes from a champion bloodline. The buyers intend to show her, so they’re paying a pretty penny.” She throws out casually, as if he can’t tell what she’s trying to do, the deal she’s trying to see if she can score. “They’re paying $10,000—”

There it is. The sin of greed that gets us all at one point or another. 

Without second thought or guess, Roman states, “I’ll give you $20,000.”

As expected, her eyes nearly bulge out of her head, the expression highlighting excessive crows feet no doubt caused by unnecessary time spent under this scorching sun. “$20,000?” He doesn’t even have to counter again. “Well, I suppose I could offer them another puppy—”

“Good.” Roman knew right away “negotiating” with this woman wouldn’t take much. She’s in it for a clean, high profit, which is fair considering one could say that for all business owners. But, if all else failed, he had…..other strategies. But those are much messier, and he’d rather just throw a stack of cash her way so they could be on their merry fucking way. “Wise Man.”

Paul steps forward, pudgy cheeks reddened and eyes watering. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Pay the woman.”

Paul swallows. “But, my—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s cheeks redden as he nods and motions to the house. Roman doesn’t need to say anything else. “I will handle the sale. Shall we?”

As Roman allows his counsel to handle the closing of the deal, he walks over to Solana who looks over at him with that same smile. He crouches down near her, observing, “she seems to like you.” And it’s the truth, seeing how the other puppies are content with playing with each other, this one is sticking with Solana.

She looks at Roman, petting the top of its head carefully, looking back down with that happy smile.“Thank you for taking me—”

“She’s yours.” 

Her head snaps in his direction, right as the dog climbs into her lap. “W–what?” Solana blinks, face painted in plausible confusion. “M–mine?”

Roman chuckles. “It’s certainly not for me.”

“Really?” Roman watches the hairy ass creature stand on its legs, as if demanding her attention. Attention whore ass.

“Yes, if you want her—”

“Yes,” she answers almost immediately, suddenly. And true to her nature, she’s already backtracking. “I mean—“

“You want her, so she’s yours,” he reiterates his previous statement, but there’s a tone of finality that lets Solana know he’s not open to a discussion or debate.

It’s a sure thing. 

“She’d be your dog. Not mine.” He clarifies. Solana can tell it’s also his way of telling her he’s not doing shit to help her take care of this dog, which is more than fair since Solana would bet he had no plans to purchase a dog anytime soon.

So why is he? 

She just has to ask again. “You don’t—-you really don’t care?”

It feels unreal. Too much like not an option. Not a reality. Why would he allow her a pet? Buy her a pet? 

He eyes the animal that’s seemingly already taken so well to Solana. “She’s so damn small I’ll probably forget she’s there half the time.”

There’s that laugh again, and Roman finds himself with a small smile of his own, not as big, nor as genuine, but a smile nonetheless. But just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone. Clearing his throat, he asks, “what are you gonna name her?”

Solana looks down at the puppy in her lap, nestled so comfortably against her stomach, eyes fluttering close like she’s about to fall asleep. With a soft smile and gentle caress of her coat, she answers. “Dulce.”

Roman’s thick brows arch together as he asks, “is that Spanish?”

She nods, glancing over at him just long enough to answer. “It means sweet.”

He makes a sound. That lines up. For both of them. 

The dog's eyes then land on him with as much disinterest he feels about it, quickly focusing back on Solana. “I suppose we’ll have to get supplies and shit for her.”

Roman doesn’t consider himself having a childhood, so he refers to what most call just that as his ‘formative year.’ And during those formative years, he never had a pet, so this is new to him as well, outside of just the common sense parts of owning a dog.

She’s petting the sleeping puppy “Aren’t you busy today?” 

Yes. Always. Roman’s to-do list is on subscribe and save, constantly delivering him new shit when he’s still working on the old shit. It’s just a part of the job though.

“No,” he answers. “It can wait.”

________

A couple of stops at different stores to pick up all of the shit Solana needs for Dulce along with getting the first vet appointment scheduled for the puppy takes just under three hours, which still grants Roman plenty of time to head into the office. Not until, though, he makes sure Solana is good to go, good with being left alone with the dog.

He meant it when he said it was her dog and he wouldn’t be helping out and shit, but given it’s the first day, he can see how there could be some nerves there.

But, there’s not. She’s good to go, hence his okayness with leaving for a little while to get some work done.

She doesn’t text him as much during the day, a noticeable thing that he understands is because she’s spending time with the dog. 

But, he does come home for lunch to get in a workout where he finds an entry in the notebook.

Roman,

Thank you so much. 

I promise I’ll take care of her and keep her out of your way. Paul’s too. I’ll keep her in the room with me when he’s over.

I always wanted a dog, but my dad hates them, and even if he didn’t, I was always too scared Wes would do something to it or worse….just to hurt me. He hates me, if you didn’t notice….

Solana

Roman doesn’t take much, if any time, to reply. He’d prefer to talk to her in person, but Bayley and Naomi are over, the three women in the backyard playing with the dog. So, he allows her that time, settling for a written response. 

Solana,

You’re welcome. 

Don’t worry about Paul. He won’t fucking die from allergies, and if he does, oh well.

I noticed. It’s why I’ll never leave you alone with him or your shitty father. Ever.

Why does he hate you?

Roman

Solana is partially upset when she realizes she missed Roman coming home for a workout, not that she wanted to bother him, just maybe….see him. Maybe even talk to him. Possibly tell him thank you again in person vs writing it in the notebook, but after Naomi and Bayley are gone and she’s fed Dulce her dinner, Solana sees Roman replied, leaving the notebook on her bed this time.

Most likely for privacy.

The first part of his note makes her laugh, even if she doesn’t enjoy Paul clearly suffering from his allergies. The second part, however, Solana struggles with.

She doesn’t know how honest to be with Roman, doesn’t know where she should draw that line in the sand. However, it’s not missed upon her that everything she’s shared with him, he’s been surprisingly okay with. Never having such a major reaction that it made her second guess her sharing.

And the man just bought her a fucking dog, something she’s always wanted. For no apparent reason.

Maybe….maybe she can be a bit more honest, a bit more forthcoming, even if it is a somber truth.

Roman,

I don’t want to inconvenience Paul. That’s not fair to him….

Wes blames me for our mother’s murder, says it was my fault.

And he’s not wrong.

She is dead because of me.

Solana

The minute Solana brings the notebook to Roman’s room, she regrets it. She regrets opening up, regrets being so vulnerable with him. Just because he answers her questions and bought her a puppy doesn’t mean he gives two shits about her trauma.

She’s so tempted to sneak into his room and take the journal back. It keeps her up, makes her toss and turn as Dulce sleeps peacefully in her pink dog bed beside Solana’s. 

But, it’s when Solana wakes up at 4am and notices the notebook on her nightstand, her anxiety reaches another level. Instead of avoiding it until morning, she sits up and snatches it, flipping to the page they’re on.

And her stomach achieves a new level of butterflies when she reads his response. 

Solana,

It’s not your fault.

Also, you were wrong.

I care what you have to say and think.

Roman

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Part of the Action

poly!mikaelsons x human!reader

summary: you're about to be left out of yet another mikaelson plan, when an accidental mix-up happens that might convince them to let you help them. OR, you prove that you've got a lot more fire than the mikaelsons give you credit for.

tags: plotting, blood drinking

word count: 720

You lay across the couch as Klaus goes over his plan for the third time. Your legs are in Kol’s lap, while your head is in Rebekah’s. As he strokes his finger along your thigh, she’s playing with your hair, and none of you are paying much attention to the hybrid. Elijah’s trying his best to listen to his brother, but he’s consumed by a jealousy of not being able to touch you while his siblings do that makes him deaf to the plan. 

“So I’ll need one of you to distract Damon, another to distract Stefan, and-” Klaus pauses, “are any of you idiots listening to me?”

Four pairs of eyes immediately snap up to him. 

“Could you stop petting the girl for one minute so you can tune into my plan for world domination?”

“She’s just so soft, Niklaus,” Rebekah whines, digging her hands into your scalp sweetly.

“Yes, I know, but this is important.”

“So is taking time to relax and love on our little girl.”

He sighs, then looks at you expectantly. You’re only able to fight his gaze for a minute before surrendering. Both Kol and Bekah argue as you move to be sitting in between them, not touching either of them. 

“Thank you, love. Now, this is the plan. One of you distracts Damon, another distracts Stefan. I grab Elena. Y/N, you stay here, because you are not getting caught in any crossfire-”

“Why do you never let me help?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do I always have to sit out when you guys are acting out on plans? I can help. I want to help.”

“We will not risk you getting hurt, baby. It is imperative that you stay here where you’re safe,” Elijah speaks for them all. 

“If I get hurt, you can just heal me! I want to help!”

“No, Y/N. That is an order. You stay here.”

“I can’t be here all the time while you’re always fighting. What if you get hurt?”

“We will heal.”

“Well you can heal me.”

“Love, it’s a no. Now stop fighting the matter before it results in punishment.”

You glare at the two eldest brothers, but then drop your gaze and pout.

Kol immediately leans over to whisper, “we love you too much for you to get hurt, darling. Yes, we can heal you, but there’s still so much risk.”

“Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll stay back. Again.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. 

Klaus continues plotting. “I’ll only need Elena for a second, so you all only need to distract them for a little bit. Just long enough for me to make my point.”

You zone out while he talks, knowing there’s no use in listening anyway since you’re on the outs. At some point, Elijah sets his wine glass on the coffee table to stand up to talk to Klaus. Your eyes focus on it. I’m in desperate need of some wine to deal with this shit again, you think, ‘Lijah won’t mind if I steal a sip. 

In one quick motion, you reach for the glass and bring it to your lips. 

He spins around at the sound of movement, eyes immediately going wide. “Baby, that’s not wine. Put it-”

Too late. You take a big sip of the liquid. It’s already in your mouth by the time you realize it’s blood. It shocks you for a second; Elijah’s not usually one to drink blood from wine glasses - that’s usually Kol. But as it sits in your mouth, you find yourself enjoying the taste. It’s thick, oozy, and something about it makes you feel powerful. Like what once was someone’s life force is now being consumed by you. 

In one gulp, you swallow it. It’s heavy down your throat and bubbles in your stomach. The taste lingers on your lips, stained red from its color. 

You set the glass down and lie back on the couch, but not without swiping your tongue across your lips first. “What?” You question the four siblings staring at you. They’re all speechless, yet the longer you look, the more you recognize the love and lust in their eyes. 

Klaus is the first to break the silence. “Well, judging by that, maybe our beautiful and bloodthirsty girl is ready to be a part of the action.”

[crystalandparrot]

RC9GN x Reader

New Season

Not my art!!

NEW SEASON OF RC9GN!!! This takes place AFTER the Sorcerer's defeat

If you would like to know what voice actors I had in mind for the new characters, I'll make a skippable chapter about it.

This is very different from my other stories! This (Y/n) is MAINLY based on Donnie from ROTTMNT. She can be seen as autistic, but for the sake of not writing too many details, I'll stick to the basics. If you want some chapters that have more details about autistic characters, I can write a few one shots. I don't want ANY exclusion. Without spoiling too much, her weapon is also VERY much like Donnie's. Lots of attachments, tools, and things that could further a plot line. A lot of the technology will be the same but it will all have different purposes. This is gonna be really out of my comfort zone, as most (Y/n) I write are somewhat based on me. If it ever gets too confusing or to OOC, let me know. I want to clarify, (Y/n) is NOT Donnie, I just don't see a lot of reader inserts or x readers with a truly intelligent reader and I thought it'd be cool. The Donnie inspiration was mainly because Ben Schwartz voices Leo from ROTTMNT and Randy.

I want to preface as well, if this does not become a Reader insert, this will be a slow burn. Again, getting out of my comfort zone.

"Congratulations! You have punched all the graves!"

With their signature move, Howard Weinerman a Randy Cunningham congratulated each other, but before they could completed said, 'slappage', Howard moved away.

"Now that we've finished the final final Grave Punchers game, we should talk about the Ninja situation." Howard stepped away, leaving Randy with his fist in the air.

"Okay, I know I'm gonna sound like a broken record on this but...there is no Ninja situation?" Randy asked, dropping his hand.

"Exactly! There is no Ninja situation!" Howard pointed to Randy's desk, where the mask and Nomicon lay, the book still disguised by a Math book cover. "Your Ninja stuff has been sitting at that desk all Spring Break! The stuff's probably collected dust by now." Howard complained.

"Pfft!" Randy waved his hand and crossed his arms defiantly. "N-no, no it hasn't."

Howard raised an eyebrow and blew a large gust of air at the Nomicon. A cloud of dust flew off and towards the boys, causing them to cough.

"Okay, okay. You might have a point." Randy walked to his desk and grabbed his mask. The red lines pulsed softly. "But, the Sorcerer's gone. And with him gone, McFist has no reason to fight me." Randy waved his hand for emphasis.

"Doesn't he hate the Ninja?" Howard asked.

Randy guffawed, "No one hates the Ninja!"

"I hate the Ninja!" A scratchy voice boomed throughout the circular room. "I just wanna punch him in his stupid Ninja face." He grumbled, slouching in his chair. The short burly man mashed his fists together angrily for emphasis. The man's face turned bright red, starkly contrast from his dark Judge's robe, hence the name they all knew him by.

"Whoo, take 'er easy there, Judge. You'll get wrinkles." The melodic voice came from the dark skinned woman sitting to the right of the Judge. She was staring into a compact mirror, although her counter parts were unaware as to how seeing as her fluffy hair was covering her eyes completely. With one hand holding the mirror, she used her other hand to apply bright red lipstick, the shade on the bottom read, 'Snake's Blood'.

"Yeah, you're starting to look like McFist." The sassy voice came from a tall tan man with brunette hair, elegantly styled.

"I am not-!!" The Judge angrily stood, his face red. He took a deep breath and sat back down, gently setting down his gavel after he angrily held it over his head. "I am not like Hannibal McFist."

"What's with this obsession over the Ninja lately?" The woman asked, setting her compact mirror back in her purse. "We're perfectly fine with how we're operating things now."

"And it's not like the Ninja notices small crimes, he's more focused on Monsters and Robots, right?" The brunette asked.

"Not anymore." The Judge shook his head. "The Sorcerer's gone, and with him out of the way, those Robots are soon to follow. It won't be long before he gets desperate." The Judge reached across the table and grabbed the small remote that sat in the middle. Pressing the red button, a projection appeared on the wall being the skinny brunette. "Last night. The Ninja overturned our truck of stolen money, the cops found it right after." Pictures of a dark figure, with, what looked like, a large mallet standing on top of the overturned truck, red and lights flashing behind them, making the lines on the suit look purple. The Judge turned off the projection.

"So we gotta go bigger." The woman smirked.

"How do you figure?" The brunette asked.

The woman, about to answer, stopped as her phone rang. She pulled it out of her blazer and answered sweetly, "Deputy Mayor Kranski. Oh, hi, hon!" Kranski giggled quietly, holding her other hand up to the phone to try to conceal her words, "I'm in a meeting, honey!" She stood straight once more, hand back at her side. "Yep, meatloaf is on the top shelf."

"Kranski." The Judge rolled his eyes.

"Okay, love you too. Buh-bye." Kranski smiled sweetly, hanging up.

The brunette looked at his nails out of boredom, then looked back up at Kranski. "You were saying?"

"The Ninja is used to dealing with larger threats. So why don't we give him one?" Kranski smirked, folding her hands together.

The Judge's eyes widened, "And how do you suppose we do that?"

"We don't exactly have the funds to do that. And before you start, I'm a rich designer. You want a guy to build robots, you should have gotten my old roommate." The brunette checked his nails again.

"Once again, you offer no help, Damien." The Judge rolled his eyes.

"But, I did hear that your old high school is having an invention convention in a few days. Maybe we could...sponsor one of the brilliant students to help us?" Damien smirked.

"My old high school..." The Judge looked off in the distance, remembering his old days in school. He rubbed his Norrisville alumni ring as he recalled the happy, the sad, the humiliation...oh the humiliation... "That might just be the best idea you've had yet." The Judge smirked.

The three began laughing, first small, then growing to loud chaotic laughter.

"Just you wait, Ninja. We're coming." The Judge smirked.

"I don't know about this (Y/n)."

"Bucky, you're gonna be fine. I'm a scientist—"

"You're fourteen!" Bucky interrupted.

"Still technically a scientist." (Y/n) poked her head up from behind her desk, goggles plastered on her head. The left lens was wide and red, much closer to the metal band connecting the goggles than the right lens. The right lens was slightly extended past the left and was blue. "Move to the right a bit." She commanded, motioning with her hand for her companion to move to his right.

Buck looked down at the ground and shuffled to the right, now more centered on the red 'X' on the ground.

(Y/n) grinned and gave a thumbs up, a noise of confirmation exiting her lips before she resumed her fast typing.

"So what does this do again?" Bucky asked, looking around at the dangerous equipment aimed at his head.

"Oh this? It's just a simple home alarm." (Y/n) waved her hand above her screens so Bucky could see.

"Simple, right." Buck nodded, but did not agree at all. "Has anyone ever told you that you tend to go a little overboard?" Bucky asked.

(Y/n) peeked around her screens again, goggles now over her eyes, "No, why?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued typing.

Bucky anxiously tapped his arms to his side but stopped once one of the large metal arms adjusted near his head.

"Okay!" (Y/n) clapped her hands and stood, slightly scaring Bucky. "If I did this right, you shouldn't get hurt! At least not too bad." (Y/n) mumbled. Flipping her goggles back onto the top of her head, she added some last minute adjustments.

"What was that?" Bucky asked quickly, sweating in all uncomfortable places.

"And 3, 2,-" Before she could press the 'enter' button on her large complicated keyboard, all of her screens changed to a cute emoticon of her face. The emoticon had half lidded eyes, goggles, and a lazy smirk, much like the counterpart that made it.

'School. School. It's time for the most important time of the day. School. School. As Galileo said,"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them."'

(Y/n) turned off the alarm with a sigh. "As much as I'd love to listen to quotes from famous scholars all day, Galileo is right. It's time to discover new truths!" (Y/n) stood, finger raised in the air boldly. She grabbed her (f/c) satchel (A/N: sorry, just a question. Would you guys want you to have more inclusive things like (f/c) or (f/drink) or should I keep it Donnie-esque? Keep the favorite color purple and the favorite drink flavorless juice.) and Bucky's bag. She pulled her phone out of her (f/c) hoodie and began typing quickly with just her thumb, her previous excitement suddenly disappearing. (Y/n) began walking out of the dimly lit room, eyes trained on the screen. "You might want to follow quickly, because I accidentally pressed the button." (Y/n) said as she rushed out of the room.

The beeping of the mechanical appendages and weapons powering up around Bucky, made him gulp.

[magicshopaholic]

Another World

Summary: Jungkook finds himself going down a path he never intended - and his best friend might just be collateral damage.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC, Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.7 K

Warnings: none

A/N: Whew. This required some research. A disclaimer for any gaming fans out there: the kind of liberties I have taken with the video games described in this fic cannot be overstated. Think Troy butchering The Illiad source material (but with good plot anyway). Set over a period of a couple of months, starting a month after Los Angeles pt. 2)

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton @sumzysworld @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "layla" by eric clapton

taehyung masterlist | jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

Jungkook liked gaming. He liked how immersive it was, how fast it was, how much it required him to get into character and beat the bad guys. Most of all, Jungkook liked to win. Video games were winnable, for the most part. Whether it was rules, strategy or just plain speed, gaming was about beating the bad guys and winning the game.

It may have been due to this reason that all the games he owned and played broadly followed this narrative: hero, quests, bad guys, save the world, win. When he and Dilara moved away from FIFA and Real Racing (both extremely winnable games), this was how Jungkook had introduced her to his collection and invited her to play Mortal Kombat. 

Dilara hadn’t been super impressed, although she’d played without fuss. She was in London and he was in Seoul, the night beginning for her and for him, the dawn nearing. They played together, shooting, jumping, killing, running. Winning. She’d played with supreme focus (he could see her on the video at the bottom of the screen). Her eyes were trained on the screen, slight frown on her forehead that remind him ostensibly of Taehyung, her fingers moving rapidly on the console, not uttering a single word except at the beginning of the game: save the cheerleader, save the world.

Jungkook hadn’t got the reference, but she’d said it wryly, as though it was a joke only some people were meant to get. Still, she played with him and four hours later, when they were less than halfway done, she’d sat back in her chair and raised her arms over her head, stretching.

“Don’t get lazy,” he’d commanded, still in the zone. He’d tapped his headset. “We still have so many levels to complete.”

“JK,” she’d sighed. It must have been hot in London; her neck and chest were shining in the fluorescent light from the screen. She swept her long hair up into a bun and her tank top rode up slightly, suddenly revealing how tight it was.

Jungkook had looked away out of habit. It never did well to check out your friends’ girlfriends. 

“Don’t you need to sleep? Isn’t it morning for you?”

It was - but Jungkook had the day off. He told her as much but she told him she had to sleep. 

“In the middle of the game?” He was aghast. “How can you do that?”

She’d wrinkled her nose. “It’s not a cliffhanger. We can just pick it back up tomorrow. The next levels will be the same. Just shoot ‘em all.” She made a finger gun and pointed it at him before dropping her hand. “There’s no story. All the characters are just… graphic. There’s no emotion, no empathy, no… passion to save the world.”

He’d stared. “It’s saving the world. You need passion to do that?”

Dilara had chuckled tiredly. “Even guns and explosions can have a compelling story. Have you ever played Yakuza?”

Of course Jungkook had played Yakuza. It wasn’t bad, but it had been a lot of information to keep track of. Too many characters, too many plots. He’d played until he’d won, but only because it would’ve killed him not to.

“I have to be at the factory at eight am. I’m going to bed.” She’d pushed back her chair and stood up, and the screen filled for a moment with her chiselled torso, hips, and tan thighs from under her shorts. This time, it took Jungkook a moment longer to look away.

He’d bid her goodnight with a bit of half-hearted whining until she promised to resume play the next day. Once she’d logged off, Jungkook switched back to his screen and took a sip of his Americano, debating continuing without her anyway.

A moment later, he’d sighed and switched off the game, heading to bed.

—

The day Jungkook realised he wasn’t cut out for elaborate, story-telling games was the day he played A Way Out with Dilara.

She had told him about it in passing, mentioning that she’d also only played it once, years ago, before life had got in the way. Jungkook had been about to shut it down with glee right then but she’d seemed so mournful about never playing it again that he’d relented and bought the game, sending her an invite to login as well.

“It’s like I’m sixteen again,” she sniffed dramatically, making herself comfortable on her chair. The Red Bull logo on her oversized t-shirt came into full focus for a moment while she adjusted her camera, and Jungkook grinned in satisfaction.

“Well, you wouldn’t shut up about it so you basically forced me to buy it.”

“You know what? Even if that’s true, it’s going to be so worth it. This is the best game, JK,” she added, her face shining. “Emotional connections, moral conundrums, deep friendships…” She sighed and shook her head in wonder. “Just the best,” she repeated.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows at this display but said nothing. “Shall we start?” he asked.

“Yes. Okay, now, don’t worry about not getting the game initially,” she informed him. “I haven’t played it in forever either and I’m sure with the updates and everything, it’ll practically be a different game.

This, Jungkook supposed, was in response to a rather childish moment he’d had a couple of weeks prior where, amidst his inability to grasp the concept of the game, he’d sort of shrieked, yanked off his headphones and proceeded throw himself on the bed in the gaming room, face down for several minutes while Dilara called his name in irritation.

He scowled. “I’ll be fine. Will you?”

Dilara grinned sheepishly; she didn’t take well to losing either. “I’ll be okay. I’m Vince and you’re Leo?”

They commenced the game then. The story read more like a movie than a video game; Jungkook watched in awe as their characters, both in prison and holding a grudge against the same mobster, formed a begrudging alliance and escaped.

It was a gorgeous game; the screen, the special effects, the dialogue - he and Dilara read them out as quickly as possible, eager to move through the game.

“Oh, my God,” muttered Jungkook after a while, shaking his head slowly as Leo and Vincent, on the run from the law, made a campfire in the dead of night. “That’s why Vincent hates Harvey, too?”

“Harvey was an arsehole,” said Dilara with feeling. “There’s a reason Vincent wanted to partner with Leo, even if it meant he risked getting caught. There’s nothing like common hatred of a person to bring two people together.”

Jungkook stole a glance at her, which she caught. 

“What?” she asked, chuckling and looking a bit embarrassed. “That’s the fun of these games. You have to really get into it.”

He smiled without meaning to. “I get it. He killed Vincent’s brother. Vincent gets to hate him.”

“Shut up. Ooh, look, it’s Leo’s story now.” They started reading the dialogue boxes together, Jungkook reading them out in slightly accented English, when a sound cut through the soft soundtrack.

“Helicopter!” Dilara yells. “It’s the cops! Okay, go left!”

“No, I think it’s right!” The screen changed as both characters ran through the wilderness, the animated figures running faster than Jungkook could ever hope to. “Okay, we have to get into that house, I think.”

Their characters took shelter in a hut, evading the police, and looting the place for clothes, weapons and a truck.

“It’s a car chase!” Jungkook exclaimed. “You should drive!”

“You know it’s not a real truck, right?” she called out, but still manoeuvring Vincent into the driver’s seat. “Okay, let’s go! Seatbelt on!”

“I thought you said it wasn’t real!”

“I didn’t stutter, JK!”

Jungkook snorted before getting back into character, his heart racing; if the cops caught them, they were back in prison, meaning the game was over.

“Cliff!”

“Get out of the car! There’s a rowboat! And go from behind the trees!” she added as the sounds of the police’s gunshots got louder. They hopped into a conveniently placed rowboat by the banks of a thrashing river and began steering with their controllers.

“Is that a - is that a waterfall?”

“Jump!”

“What?” Jungkook’s eyes widened in a panic. “We don’t have life jackets!”

“It’s not a real river, JK!” Dilara yelled as she threw her character into the water, escaping a gunshot by a nanosecond. “Leo knows how to swim!”

Feeling his ears get hot, Jungkook obeyed and Leo jumped. The two characters somehow made it through the river and landed on the other side, the police finally no longer in sight.

“Whew.” Jungkook exhaled and takes off his headphones for a moment, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He put them back on to see Dilara grinning in the pop out screen.

“Great game, huh?”

“Holy shit. This is what you meant by emotional connection?” When she nodded, he shook his head. “Crazy. Oh, wait - Leo’s story.” He read the dialogue again, his own tone sounding more and more surprised. “Harvey betrayed Leo, too? What a jerk!”

“Villians,” was all Dilara said by way of explanation. “Oh, look! Aww…”

Jungkook followed an instruction to call home with a nearby telephone. “Leo has a wife and kid? What is this game?” he exclaimed. “This is like - like something that should be in the Oscars! Where are the machine guns and the aliens?” 

“I can see your eyes tearing up, Jeon, so don’t give me that.”

He didn’t even bother defending himself; he was more engrossed in this fully human story than he ever had been in a video game before. He glanced at Dilara again, his stomach settling comfortably when he realised he wasn’t alone.

It was a flurry of activity after that: purchasing arms, being betrayed by the arms dealer, getting in touch with a mysterious pilot from Vincent’s past who offered to fly them to Mexico to escape. The pilot also dropped another bombshell.

“Vincent has a kid?”

“Vincent is having a kid,” she corrected him. “Okay, we have an option to go to the hospital. We’re going, right? No way is Vincent abandoning his daughter before she’s even born.”

“He’s not abandoning - okay, sure,” he said quickly, catching Dilara’s surprisingly troubled expression. “It could be a trap, though.”

But Dilara ignored him, and both characters headed to the hospital. Warning bells instantly went on in Jungkook;s head, for he’d played enough video games to know what a calm spell looked like before they got attacked. But he followed Dilara until Vincent met his newborn baby girl, Julie.

“I’ve never made it this far in this game,” murmured Dilara, her voice wobbling slightly. Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like this was a slight overreaction over an animated baby, but something stopped him from commenting on it. 

“Gwaenchanha?” he ventured, but at that moment, a pop-up appeared on the screen, informing them that the police had surrounded the hospital.

“Told you!” Jungkook exclaimed, but his heart raced with excitement. What a game. 

“I’m not sorry!” she replied as they rushed out of the hospital. “I swear to God, JK, if you and Tae are ever running from the police and I’m in the hospital giving birth to his kid, you better make sure he’s there!”

“Er, sure thing,” he assured her, before changing the subject. “Okay, we have to split up.” With no indication either way, he went right while Vincent went left. He avoided the police as best he could while continuously keeping an eye on the split screen to see Dilara’s progress as well. 

She escaped; Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief and took his eyes off his own screen for a moment too long to see Dilara pump her fist in the air - long enough to get captured.

“Shit!” He’d lost the game - swallowing his disappointment, for Dilara hadn’t yet, he urged her to continue. “Go! Keep going!”

“I can’t,” she muttered determinedly, turning Vincent around and going back into the hospital with his gun loaded. “We’re in this together, mate - if you lose, we both lose.”

Despite the tension, Jungkook felt his stomach flip in excitement: he loved playing with Dilara. She was competitive, she took risks and she was good at gaming. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who matched this well with him online; it was no surprise that he constantly looked forward to their next session.

“Okay, hold still -” Dilara frowned in concentration, aiming her gun - only two bullets left - at the cop who had Leo in a headlock. Her thumb swiped over the controller ever so slightly and shot the cop straight in the head.

“You saved me!” Jungkook gasped, immediately spurring his character on and out of that damn hospital.

“Don’t sound so shocked,” she muttered, although she looked relieved as well, a grin flashing across her face.

They escaped after that, taking up the pilot’s offer to take them to Mexico, where they were ambushed by the mobster Harvey and his men. There was the old school gaming face-off: guns, fire, jumping off buildings and eliminating NPCs left and right.

“Oh, my God,” said Jungkook in surprise. “We did it. We killed Harvey.” He looked up hopefully at Dilara. “Is that it? Does that mean we win?”

“I don’t know…” The game told them that now that Harvey was dead, they could return to the US but the moment they did, they were surrounded by the police again. “Oh, no…”

“No! Come on!” Jungkook whined, frustrated now, but something was wrong. He frowned as one of the policemen, took the gem they had stolen from Harvey from Leo’s hand and handed it to Vincent… along with his gun.

“Oh, no…”

“Wait…” Jungkook frowned. “Why did the cop just -” He squinted at the screen to read the dialogue box, even though Dilara was reading it out loud. “Is - is Vincent a cop?” His eyes darted to Dilara’s picture in the pop-out. “Are you undercover?”

“Shit, I had no idea,” she murmured. “I told you I’d never reached this far in the game before.” 

His stomach churned. We’re in this together, she’d said. “I’m supposed to take you hostage now,” he stated, reading the instructions. Before she could shrug in acceptance, he subdued her and ran. It ensued in a chase again, but this time between Leo and Vincent, with Leo trying to run and Vincent trying to catch him.

It’s not real. Jungkook knew, he knew Dilara knew, and he knew the game was set up to be a certain way for the story. But it still stung, being betrayed, and before he knew it, he was being chased into a warehouse by Dilara, both of them injured and losing energy.

“Some game, Komyshan,” he muttered, sighing. He didn’t know how long they’d been playing; bonding over their shared hatred of Harvey felt like hours ago, as did each of them discovering they had kids. He chanced another look at Dilara on the pop–out and paused.

Her eyes were wet, tear tracks down her cheeks. He started, suddenly wondering if her sixteen-year-old self knew that she would have to betray her ally like this.

They climbed up the warehouse and onto the roof, both their energy packs beeping to indicate they were running out. There were their guns, bright and clear. This, Jungkook knew, was the end. One of them got the gun and shot the other, and the other died at the hands of a one-time ally.

She was still crying, even as her fingers flew over the buttons on the controller. Jungkook watched, as though in slow motion, as Vincent on screen dove for the gun and pointed it at Leo, shooting him, ending the game.

“What - what did you do?” Dilara frowned, looking taken aback. “You didn’t even go for your gun. Did - did you let me win?” she demanded, sounding horrified.

“No!” But didn’t he, though? Jungkook couldn’t tell. “I - I didn’t see the gun,” he explained weakly. He fell silent as the epilogue appeared on screen. 

“Vincent tells Linda about Leo’s death…” she read out, swallowing, “... and goes back to his wife and newborn daughter.” Dilara blinked rapidly.

“That’s a happy ending, right?” Jungkook murmured. “He didn’t have to abandon his daughter.”

Dilara was quiet for a moment. Then she chuckled softly, without humour, not looking away from the screen. “Jesus Christ, JK,” she sighed. “It’s not real. It's just a game.”

Jungkook nodded but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t seen Dilara ever break down in front of him like that, even though she’d held it together reasonably well. It stayed in his mind even as he went to bed at dawn, the image of her biting her lip while her eyes swam with tears at a fictional character leaving his wife and newborn at the hospital, and he privately came to a conclusion: he was not cut out for story-telling games. 

—

The worst loss Jungkook had ever faced in a video game was the night he invited Taehyung to play. 

He didn’t truthfully know what he’d been expecting when he’d invited the older member to join. All he remembered was that years before Dilara entered their lives, Taehyung had been the person who stayed up with him into the wee hours of the night when they were crippled with jet lag and played video games all night.

But it didn’t feel the same. Even the way the plan came to life felt… off. They were in a supermarket in Seoul, during a serendipitous week where their tour schedule and Dilara’s F1 calendar had somehow coincided to have all of them in the same location. A get-together had been planned which Hoseok had volunteered to host, with all seven members, Seokjin’s girlfriend Seulgi, Sooah, Chaeyoung and Dilara in attendance. All the members had been delegated by Namjoon, who seemed to be making a huge effort to gather everyone together, to bring different accompaniments for the night; in the gigantic mall, five out of seven members roamed around trying to fulfil their duties. 

Taehyung, Jungkook and Dilara had been dispatched to purchase liquor and mixers. On their way to the store, Taehyung bumped into a friend and, after fondly introducing Dilara as his girlfriend, encouraged her and Jungkook to go on without him.

“How are you balancing this thing?” Jungkook asked tightly, as he tried to keep the cart he was standing from bumping into any of the aisles.

“It’s called steering,” she said knowledgeably, her much smaller frame somehow managing to manoeuvre the cart with ease, almost as if she were riding a manual scooter.

“Race you to the end?” 

She grinned as they positioned their carts next to each other. “Remember, we buy what we break.”

“Good thing we can both afford it.” Jungkook winked at her, half-heartedly dodging her playful kick to his shin. “Ready?”

“Go!” 

They were careful to keep quiet and not attract attention, staying at the back of the store where they were the only customers. They stifled their giggles while trying to maintain their balance and simultaneously sabotage the other. 

“Careful, Lara,” he called to her as her cart wobbled slightly.

“Oi, you don’t get to call me that,” she admonished him, wincing and straightening her cart. “Something’s wrong with this cart, ugh…”

“Oh, yeah? Brake failure?” he taunted her. “You can’t blame everything on your engineers, you know?”

Dilara gasped as she turned her cart at the last minute to avoid hitting a standalone shelf of bottles. “How dare you, Jeon Jungkook. I’m going to kill -” She gasped again, out of his sight this time, followed by a soft oof! from someone else. Just as Jungkook spurred his cart on to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself, he heard the giggles - both of them.

“You’re not allowed to do that in here,” he heard Taehyung’s deep voice, and his heart sank unexpectedly. “You could be arrested for that, you know?”

Jungkook appeared just in time to see Taehyung tugging Dilara backwards to him, gripping both her wrists loosely in one hand. His head was tilted towards the side of her face while she smiled in a way that made Jungkook feel as though he’d walked in on something extremely private.

Fortunately, she caught sight of him and stepped away from Taehyung, albeit still staying close. “Alright, don’t we have stuff to buy?” she asked, changing the subject. “Who has the list?”

Jungkook and Taehyung both opened the group chat to check the list compiled in it, naming different liquors out of order. “Why don’t we split up?” Dilara suggested. “I’ll go to the wine section,” she volunteered, waving at both of them and disappearing behind the aisle, leaving both boys to scan the hard liquors.

“Whiskey, obviously,” stated Taehyung, picking up a bottle of Glen Fiddich and checking the price. “Probably the first bottle Hobi hyung will ever have in his house.”

Jungkook forced a chuckle. “True. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay long enough to see him at that stage of the night, though.”

“Oh, yeah? Got plans?” He raised his eyebrows mock-seriously. “Hot date tonight?”

Yeah, but it’s with your girlfriend. It was only a moment later when he looked up to see Taehyung frowning slightly at him that he realised he’d said the words out loud. “No, I just meant -” He let out another choked laugh, his heart jolting in panic. “We - well, she wanted to game tonight. We don’t have a schedule tomorrow, so…” He cleared his throat.

Taehyung paused for a moment, but then simply nodded. “I meant to ask you, Jungkook,” he said after a moment, now examining another bottle. “Is everything okay?”

“I - how do you mean?”

“I mean, like with you and me. Are you mad at me or something?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “N-no. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

Taehyung shrugged. “You’ve been a little short with me the last couple of days,” he remarked casually. “Did I do something?”

He shook his head, lost for words, for this was getting seriously out of hand. What was wrong with him? The tiredness from the tour was bound to catch up sometime but were his moods that erratic, that Taehyung could have  misinterpreted them for hostility?

“No, you didn’t,” he answered honestly. “I’m just tired, I swear,” he added, throwing an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders and squeezing them. “Sorry, hyung.”

Taehyung nodded, seemingly a little surprised at this reaction. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Get some sleep tonight, maybe.”

“We’re gaming tonight, though,” he answered apologetically. “You know, you should join us,” he suggested, still reeling in the mild panic that Taehyung might think he was angry with him. “We used to game all the time, before. It’s been ages since we’ve done that.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Are you sure? Wait, do I still need to let you win?”

Jungkook scoffed, hugely relieved. “Don’t worry, Dilara has beaten me more than once so losing isn’t as shocking as it was before.”

Taehyung grinned and was about to respond when Hoseok appeared out of nowhere, looking distinctly unamused.

“Wasting time, are we?” Before either of them could respond, he slapped Jungkook lightly on the shoulder. “You - go get the beer. And you - wine. Now. Now,” he repeated when Taehyung opened his mouth to argue.

They exchanged a meaningful look and went their separate ways, Jungkook straight towards the fridges with the beer. After filling an entire cart with multiple six packs of different brands, he looked around for the others, finally spotting Namjoon in the middle of the store, typing on his phone.

“Hey. Got what we need?” Namjoon asked when Jungkook joined him and peered into the cart. “This is just beer. What about the rest?”

“Hoseok hyung was with Taehyung and Dilara getting that stuff…”

Hoseok joined them then. “Take me with you,” he stated to Namjoon, looking mildly traumatised.

Namjoon frowned. “What are you talking about? Have you guys got everything?” All three of them turned to see Taehyung and Dilara by the wines, seemingly in a serious conversation. “What’s going on over there?”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Well,” he began, “Taehyung is pretending to be a wine connoisseur giving a tour of his private winery to Dilara, a socialite who is trapped in a loveless marriage.”

Namjoon stared at him, evidently able to make neither head nor tail of this statement. “What?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. Like I said, please take me with you.”

Namjoon responded, but Jungkook barely heard him; he watched Taehyung and Dilara, standing apart but still close together, their hands brushing and their gazes fixed on each other, apparently having forgotten that they were not alone. 

The party was supposed to start in three hours; they simply did not have time for this right now. “I’ll get them,” he volunteered, abandoning the older members with the cart of beer and striding over to the happy couple.

“Sorry, guys,” he muttered, stepping in between them, for that’s where the Pinot coincidentally was. “Namjoon hyung sent me - he’s getting really impatient.” He pretended not to notice Taehyung’s annoyed sigh or Dilara self-consciously fluffing out her hair.

Later that night, after a pleasant evening at Hoseok’s apartment, Jungkook settled into the gaming chair in his own, ready to play Trine. In light of Taehyung joining them, Jungkook put forward the one three-person game they had in their backlog, a medieval fantasy game with Zoya the Thief, Amadeus the Wizard, and Pontius the Knight, played by Dilara, Taehyung and Jungkook respectively.

Jungkook was determined to have this session go well. He wasn’t exactly sure why or what it was, but he felt as though he had something to prove to Taehyung, probably because he was the guest during their regular two-person gaming sessions.

Trine was different from A Way Out, mostly in the sense that while the latter was a human story of moral conflict and emotional connections, Trine was, in every sense of the word, a game. Three misfits having to free themselves of a magical curse, each with their own weapons and abilities - it was straightforward and promised to be fun. 

Dilara, in Jungkook’s opinion, was made to play Zoya the Thief. Zoya’s skill was archery and with her excellent hand-eye coordination, Dilara shot every single arrow exactly where she was aiming, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Jungkook and his character, Pontius the Knight, watched in awe, his sword dangling uselessly at his side - until something appeared out of nowhere and hit him in the head.

“What was that?” he demanded, his eyes darting across the screen and groaning when he saw that Pontius’s energy level had dipped. Without thinking, he slashed his sword through the air, the animated flame at the end of it rising but causing no damage.

“Pay attention!” Taehyung - or Amadeus - had evidently thrown some kind of object at Pontius. As Jungkook watched, Amadeus conjured up another similar looking object, while Taehyung grinned in the pop-out screen. Begrudgingly, Jungkook had to admit that even Taehyung was made to play Amadeus the Wizard - quick, witty and wearing ridiculous robes.

“Oi!” Dilara’s voice rang through his headphones. “You both know we’re all on the same side, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes as they continued through the game, entering a ruined castle.

“Okay, here goes.” Taehyung cleared his throat as a dialogue by Amadeus appeared on the screen, and proceeded to read the entire thing in a gruff, grandiose sort of voice that Jungkook supposed he considered a wizard’s. Through the dramatics, he could hear Dilara laughing at the voice and when he glanced at the pop-up screen, saw her looking at something to her side, and it occurred to him for the first time that Taehyung and Dilara were sitting in the same room.

The thought annoyed him more than he expected. This wasn’t how gaming was supposed to be done. Gaming was different timezones, dead of night, coffee runs and straining eyes - not sitting ten feet apart in the same bedroom and giggling at inside jokes. 

It didn’t get better as the night went on. The game went well; in fact, they were progressing at an alarming rate, finding objects, overcoming obstacles, gaining points and keeping their energy levels at an all-time high. All three of their characters seemingly worked well together, their powers in perfect tandem.

However, Jungkook was slowly starting to regret inviting Taehyung to play - not because he wasn’t good, but because it wasn’t right. There was a disturbance; he didn’t seem to understand Jungkook and Dilara’s normal trash talk, had a habit of making rather asinine observations in the graphics of the game that more often than not, ended up leading to a clue the other two had missed, and seemed to be more interested in the personality of all three characters than the actual quest.

Most frustratingly, Taehyung was beating the game - and the other players. He seemed to be able to come up with the most absurd solutions to problems - and all of them worked. During a play where they had to get at a clue that was sneakily tucked into the ceiling, Jungkook and Dilara were looking for ways to unlock a ladder that the game was offering them for a certain number of points. 

“Do you have enough energy to break through the wall with your arrows?” Jungkook urged her.

“I can try…” Dilara aimed and Zoya shot an arrow which simply bounced against the wall. “I don’t think that’s the way. And I’m running out of arrows. There has to be another way to break down that wall.”

“Okay, well, the ladder is behind it. Maybe we can blow it up?” 

“You’re the one with the flaming sword.”

“Maybe I can throw it at the wall or something… burn it down…” Jungkook searched the screen frantically, passing by Amadeus, who was using his power of conjuring to simply create cube-shaped objects. “Taehyung hyung? Some help?”

“Yeah, hang on just a sec…” Taehyung, seemingly ignoring their conundrum entirely, was now stacking the objects one above the other with a slight gap between the edges, levitating the ones at the top. “There,” he said, once they almost reached the ceiling. “Use those as steps and get to the top.”

Dilara gasped and Zoya immediately sprinted up the slanting tower of blocks, easily retrieving the clue from the ceiling. “It worked!” she exclaimed in wonder, the character jumping down gracefully. “My hero,” she said dramatically, looking out the side of her screen again, which Taehyung returned with a grin and a wink at her.

Jungkook poked his tongue into his cheek. “We have, like, seven more clues left,” he said stonily, but his words were drowned in the midst of their joking and laughing. This, right here, was the problem, he reflected: he, Jungkook, had the obvious goal, which was to collect the most points and win the damn game, whereas Taehyung’s primary objective seemed to be to make Dilara laugh, the game a mere secondary.

He wondered why Dilara wasn’t more annoyed, for she enjoyed winning just as much as he did. But she seemed equally excited at the prospect of a fellow player reading out the dialogues as though they were a script, inventing a voice for Zoya and changing her accent, getting immersed in the characters and the story along with Taehyung, with Jungkook having to remind them that time was running out.

“We’re going to lose,” he stated sullenly after a while, when it seemed unlikely that they would finish before their energy packs died. 

“Not necessarily,” pointed out Dilara, moving Zoya through an empty corridor to look for the last clue - the Trine.

“Found it,” said Taehyung casually, as though he had just found his sock and not the Trine that would allow them to win the entire game. “Let’s go?”

“Yes - oh, my God!” Jungkook ran down the castle, making sure Zoya and Amadeus were both following Pontius, his heart racing with the familiar anticipation of possibly winning the game.

“Ah, my controller is stuck.” Taehyung clicked his tongue as the animated Amadeus slowed down without Taehyung speeding him along. 

“What? Don’t you dare make us lose this, Tae!” Dilara threatened him, when they’d almost reached the final destination, where they could see the other two artifacts they must combine with the Trine.

“Wh - I can’t help this! Lara - catch!” Amadeus flung the Trine - the Trine - to Zoya, who lunged for it at the last moment, fumbled it and dropped it just as the timer ran out.

“No!” Jungkook dropped his controller and covered his mouth in horror. “No, no no!” He glared at the pop-out screen, vindicated to see Dilara glaring out the side of her screen before she stood up and disappeared from view, reappearing in Taehyung’s video.

“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered to Taehyung, who grabbed her hands to stop her from doing any damage. It was a few more seconds before Jungkook realised they had moved on from the momentary seriousness to mock-anger, until Taehyung tugged at their clasped hands playfully and she fell into his lap, giggling.

Jungkook watched, dumbfounded, until Taehyung, laughing, said into the speaker, “This was so much fun, really. I think I’ll head to bed now, though,” he added, as Dilara got off his lap and went to her own laptop, pulling on her headphones.

“Yeah?” Jungkook muttered. “No rematch?”

“We’ve been playing for three hours,” he remarked. “You want to play more?”

“I want to win. Dilara?” he asked hopefully. 

“Oh, I -” She bit her lip, apparently mulling. On the pop-out screen, Taehyung had already logged off. Jungkook stared at her, his stomach churning in premature disappointment as she looked at something off screen and visibly tried to hide a smile.

“Dilara?”

“Uh… I think I’m done for tonight, too. But let’s play Person 5 tomorrow, JK. Without Taehyung,” she added deliberately, Taehyung’s muffled protests audible in her background. “Had fun, though, love. Good night!”

Jungkook swallowed as the screen went dark. Had fun? Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever hear Dilara say that about a game she had lost, even though he had never seen her laugh this much while gaming before.

Still reeling from the loss, he went straight to his gaming menu and clicked on Real Racing. No characters, no story - just cars and speed. It was weird playing this game alone, but he needed this win right now. 

Anything to not feel like a loser.

—

Sometime in the summer of that year when the group was in New York, wrapping up the America leg of the tour before starting in Europe, Dilara Komyshan DNF-ed a race.

Partly due to jetlag and partly due to the fact that it was pouring outside, almost all the members were in the suite where the race was being aired. Only Yoongi and Jimin weren’t there, the former because he was working and the latter because he was in the gym.

Jungkook had declined Jimin’s offer to work out together; he was tired, and there was the race. He would work out later, for sure. The rest of the members lounged about, doing various activities while the race played at low volume. It was beyond exciting, real-life cars going at a speed of three hundred kilometres an hour between the gorgeous mountains of Mugello, Italy.

Jungkook wished he were there; Italy had been one of his favourite countries to visit during the Red Bull collaboration last year. The views were incredible, the weather was summery, the air was pristine and the house they’d lived in had been so beautiful and rustic, with enough space outside for him and Dilara to work out together while she went through her extended break-up with Taehyung.

Jungkook sneaked a glance at the aforementioned member. Taehyung didn’t look like he was thinking about Italy last year at all; his gaze was fixed on the screen, biting his lip and tensing up every time Dilara’s car was shown on screen, as though he expected her to crash any second. 

Therefore, when her car did touch another car and they both spun out, Jungkook flinched and Taehyung was on his feet instantly, eyes wide at the screen. It didn’t seem like a violent crash, but he stayed standing, the veins in his neck popping as he stared until Dilara climbed out of the car and took off her helmet.

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, sighing hugely in relief and sitting back down, dropping his head in hands.

Jungkook frowned; of course he was glad Dilara was okay, but she was also disappointed, for sure. She had effectively lost the race - didn’t Taehyung care about that?

The rest of the race went by with far less interest from anyone in the suite, Dilara appearing briefly in the garage, having changed into jeans and a team t-shirt. From the sounds of it, the commentators seemed to agree that it was a “racing incident”, though caused by Dilara who had apparently attempted a very ambitious overtake that had gotten away from her. 

Taehyung’s face was unreadable; he was flitting between looking at the screen and constantly checking his phone, most likely waiting for a text from Dilara. The race ended and the winners were celebrated, followed by post-race interviews where Dilara was asked about nothing but the crash.

“I did speak to Carlos as soon as we were out of the car,,” she said, nodding. looking a bit cornered with several mics being shoved at her. “We’ve sorted that out. It’s definitely really unfortunate about both our races; it wasn’t the intention and I wish we’d been able to continue, but at the same time…” She shrugged. “It was a gap, you know? What kind of a driver would I be if I didn’t take the opportunity?”

“Even if it was at the cost of a fellow driver?” asked a faceless journalist off screen.

“No - of course not.” Dilara frowned and shook her head. “Like I said, Carlos and I talked about it and I’m - I’m very sorry, obviously. But I tried to go for the gap and he tried to block it - we would’ve both done the same thing if the roles were reversed, I’m sure.” But she looked visibly rattled. The interview ended then and Lewis Hamilton appeared on screen for his interview.

Jungkook reached for his phone and typed out a text.

Jungkook [11:15] I saw the race. I’m sorry. Let me know if you want to get your mind off it. We can play anything you want :)

It didn’t take long for her response to arrive. Jungkook waited, recalling how this had genuinely helped her get over a bad race earlier in the year.

Dilara [11:20] Thanks, JK. Just don’t feel like it today though. Sorry.

As Jungkook read her message, once, twice, thrice, trying to process this and not feel disappointed, Taehyung’s phone buzzed on his lap.

He answered it immediately, jumping to his feet. “Hey,” he said softly, as he walked away towards the rooms. Jungkook stared after him as he nodded at the conversation, his voice growing quieter as he left the group, eventually going into his bedroom and closing the door behind him.

A couple of hours later, after Jungkook had dragged himself to the gym and worked out harder than his body was technically allowing him, he sat at his laptop with a coffee, knowing he had only a little while before it was night in Austria.

Jungkook [14:40] Last chance? We can play Life Is Strange. Seeing me play a teenage girl might make you feel better. I’ll do the voice too.

Dilara [14:44] Haha. That might. Will have to take a raincheck though. Sorry.

Jungkook [14:45] No problem. Let me know if you want to talk or anything.

Dilara [14:46] I will. Thanks, JK. You’re a good friend. The best actually. 

The message stayed in Jungkook’s mind the rest of the day, through rehearsal, soundcheck and the concert. The best. The best. He was her best friend. He’d cheered her up on a bad day, even if it was only on text, even if it was only for a moment.

Later that night, once everyone else was asleep but for some reason, he was still awake, Jungkook checked his phone. He didn’t know what he was expecting to find; it was the crack of dawn in Italy and almost the next night in Korea. The only people he knew were in remotely the same timezone as him were on this very floor of the hotel.

He turned to Jimin with whom he was sharing a room. After a long and borderline nauseating conversation with Sooah that Jungkook had accidentally walked in on, Jimin had finally gone to sleep and was now dead to the world. Jungkook reached for his laptop and opened it to Life Is Strange, connecting his headphones before the sound could disturb Jimin.

As it turned out, it was a good thing Dilara had declined taking part in this game for it didn’t seem to have a multi-player option at all. The single player was to assume the character of Max, a photography student in Arcadia Bay with the power to turn back time. It was the most cerebral game Jungkook had ever played; it was difficult, required concentration that was in short supply for Jungkook right now, and he found himself missing having a partner to solve the puzzles and quests with.

But Jungkook was a solo player, as was Max. He started feeling a kind of kinship with Max, who also seemed to be surrounded by people in her hometown and yet, played alone. The game began with Max experiencing a vision of a tornado during class that destroyed the town, following which, while stepping out to calm down, she witnessed a fellow student shoot another in the head and kill her.

Jungkook flinched at the gunshot, the sudden sound startling him, when he discovered Max’s new ability to rewind time. Upon going back in time to before the student - Nathan - shot the girl, Max saved her, a girl who was apparently Max’s childhood friend Chloe, now her partner in solving a series of mysterious deaths in the town of Arcadia Bay.

Jungkook imagined Dilara reading Chloe’s dialogue, even though Chloe wasn’t a player. Chloe had a very similar vibe to Dilara, he felt; they looked nothing alike, but there was a determination of a kind that Dilara had. Chloe was sensitive, asking for Max’s help to find out what happened to her missing friend Rachel, brave in her desire to fight the bad guys not afraid to cry when they discovered that Rachel was dead.

Jungkook sniffed but powered through; this was exactly the kind of game Dilara liked, with characters and story and human relationships and connections on screen. He got it now, now that it was Max and Chloe against the world. Best friends. He watched, played, went through every motion to keep them together, including going back in time to save Chloe’s father from dying in a car crash. When that alternate reality meant that Chloe was instead injured in the crash and paralyzed from the waist down, Jungkook didn’t hesitate: he went back in time once again, letting her father die and saving Chloe once again.

It was almost dawn when the game was coming to an end. Jungkook could tell the end was nearing because the timeline was meant to span less than a week, but he couldn’t tell where it was going. He frowned as the game took him, Max, to San Francisco for the opportunity to display her photo at an art gallery. It almost felt as though the game was getting away from him, for why had the story moved so far away from Arcadia Bay and from Chloe?

Max calls Chloe.

Jungkook read the dialogue, his heart skipping a beat, for here it was: the tornado, the one that Max had had a vision of hours ago at the beginning of the game, was here in Arcadia Bay, threatening to destroy everything and everyone. 

The game took Max back to the moment she took the gallery photo and Jungkook swallowed, the lump in his throat painful as he and Max descended into a pit of alternate realities that existed as a result of them messing with time, only to come to the heartbreaking conclusion that it all began because Max had saved Chloe from being shot.

“No,” whispered Jungkook out loud, his voice breaking. This was why he hated story-telling games, he thought angrily, biting his lip and feeling his eyes fill up anyway. What was the point? You got attached to a character, to her best friend, to her family, and just when you thought you were making it, it imploded and forced you to choose between two equally important things, between freedom and the ally you made in prison, or between your best friend and your integrity.

What was he supposed to do now? Let the town be destroyed to save Chloe, a character who wasn’t even a player? That definitely wasn’t how the game was designed; he couldn’t imagine the programmers would consider that a win. No, if he had to win the game, he had to save the world. Save the cheerleader, save the world, Dilara had said, months ago. It always came down to saving the world.

Jungkook followed the instructions, his vision blurring as Max went back to Arcadia Bay while the storm approached, reuniting with Chloe when the moment of truth arrived. Jungkook’s finger hovered over the button on the controller, his face screwed up as he clicked on the option in the dialogue box.

He watched motionlessly as the animation exploded, the storm rolling in and destroying Arcadia Bay, the entire town razed to the ground. As the camera panned around the devastation, Jungkook swallowed the lump in his throat and let the tears stream silently down his face as Chloe appeared amidst the ruins, alive and relieved. She and Max clasped hands and left Arcadia Bay together, leaving the wreckage behind them.

—

Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 5

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 4 Index Chapter 6

Author's Note: the plot thiccens @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911.  @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

“Come on, [Y/N],” Sammie called gently, her voice as soothing as a soft wave. “You should join us!”

She beckoned you toward her and your new classmates, inviting you into their conversation. On your first day at this new school in a new town, she made you feel welcome and wanted…

 …Yet, looking around at these unfamiliar faces with their dead-eyed stares, you felt so judged. Their fish-like eyes, empty and dull like Lotan’s, conveyed such silent contempt.

“W-what’s wrong?” You whispered to your captor, but he only shushed you.

One mermaid approached you both. She was a formidable sight - large, powerful, and awfully frightening, you weren’t able to meet her gaze.

She emitted a strange sound. It was not unlike the clicking of dolphins, and yet it sounded so much more ancient and ethereal. Lotan responded in the same tongue, which provoked a series of terrible hisses from the surrounding merfolk. Lotan made a similar hissing noise, though noticeably much weaker in strength, and the elder mermaid responded by screeching, bristling her fins, and enlarging herself menacingly. You and Lotan cowered rather pathetically in response. He made a few final weak clicks before dragging the two of you to the edge of the camp. 

“Please,” you begged, “what’s happening?!”

“I-it’s nothing, my love,” he assured you, “they just… need some time to adjust.”

And so you waited. Well, at least, you tried.

You weren’t allowed to approach them. Ever. Lotan was your sole provider - he’d hunt for you, as you were unused to doing so, he’d aid you in swimming, as you were not used to. On occasion, you’d forget how to use your gills - and, of course, he was always there to re-teach you. You were, in a word, helpless - so unequipped to survive out here in the wilderness, with your very human instincts fighting you every time you tried to adapt to your new surroundings.

It was so awful. You hated being so dependent on him… Even though he loved to relish in the attention that you were forced to give him. He thought it adorable how you had to cling to him for survival, where phrases like “Where would you be without me?” and “Don’t worry darling, you can repay me for this someday!” were often said. He meant for them to be playful, but when you remembered that he was the reason you were in your current state, they felt like slaps in the face. Despite his hungry stares and lingering touches, your fear of him began to melt into deep, bitter hatred.

It was one morning, when he had dropped a half dead fish in front of you, that you were brave enough to question it all.

“...Lotan,” you said, as you gingerly picked it up, “Why can’t we join them?” You prodded at it with your nail - talon - nail, it was just a long nail.

“No, no, sweetheart,” he interrupted, “do it the way I taught you to, remember? Like this!”

He grabbed his fish, bit into its soft underbelly, and the poor thing flailed helplessly. You’ve seen him do this before, and he often tried to get you to follow suit, yet it always seemed to catch you off guard. You retched.

“Aww, so adorable, you’re always so gentle with them! Here, let me start it off for you.” He cooed. You couldn’t decide which was worse, the way he patronized you or his apparent inability to realize how uncomfortable he made you.

“...Why can’t we join them? The others?”

“Here you go! Remember, start with the heart before the blood coagulates - ”

“Lotan, why -”

“- then move to the liver, use your tongue to get it out -”

You sighed, zoning out as he finished his lecture. He never really spoke to you—just at you, always pushing his agenda. It was exhausting, and despite spending every moment together, awake or asleep, his presence made you feel terribly lonely.app

So you really had no choice. He used to let you eat by picking out bits of meat with your fingers and bringing them to your mouth, but lately he’s been much firmer on making you do it the “correct” way. You had to do it - as disgusting as it was, it would appease him, and you figured that it would help you get a clear answer.

Anytime you had to do something in this new body, you had to… step outside of yourself, for a bit. Everything was so foreign, and your human mind simply couldn’t grasp the techniques that you needed to survive. And so… you did it. You brought the dying fish to your mouth, tearing into its flesh with your teeth, ignoring the sensation of fresh blood spilling into your mouth to the best of your ability. You tuned out Lotan’s intense stare so well that you didn’t even notice his tentative glances at the curious onlookers behind you. In fact, you were never really aware of when they were watching.

The good thing about being in water, you supposed, was how quickly it washed away blood. You don’t think you could handle the way it would feel dripping down your skin. You had to ask him now, if only to distract yourself from thinking about the act you had just committed.

“Lotan…” you began sweetly, “why can’t we join the others?”

He sighed as he watched the area behind you. When you turned to see what he was looking at, you were only met with an empty rock bed.

“[Y/N], they just don’t understand yet.” He took your hands into his own. “In our society, any contact with humans is strictly forbidden. It reaches back to the old days, you know… when we would kill each other on sight. Humans had a big part in devastating our population. We’ve had to retreat and learn to live in these secluded areas… All of these centuries later, and it's still hard to find other colonies. To them, you’re just a grim reminder of our bloody history.”

You were shocked. Until just a few days ago, you had no idea that these things even existed. But now that everything in your life has been thoroughly turned on its head, now that you’ve thrown into this surreal world, you weren’t sure what to believe in anymore. Was he even being honest with you, or was there another half to the story…?

Noticing your response, he tightened his grip on you in order to shake you from your thoughts.

“But there’s no need to worry! The more we work on your habits, the more they’ll see that you’re one of us - and they’ll welcome us back to the colony in no time!”

His words only caused your chest to seize up. He clearly had no interest in empathizing, in understanding that you did not want to be there. No, no - he was not someone that you could trust.

Your mind raced as you realized this. If you kept placating him, if you kept altering your behavior to act more like a mermaid, then you’d trap yourself in this form forever. You tried to control your breathing as you thought of your next plan. You could only hear blood rushing in your head as your gills stopped working - surely, this was a sign from the universe that you weren’t meant to live underwater?! Your body went on autopilot as it allowed Lotan to pin you down and force his monstrous hand over your nose and mouth, making you breathe through those dreadful things on your torso.

You knew that Lotan would never release you, and you knew that you had to act. But if there was a way to make you like this, there had to be a way to reverse it. The other mermaids didn’t accept you; they still saw you as a human. And the enemy of thy enemy is thy friend, as the old saying goes. You felt yourself calm down, you felt Lotan take you into his disgusting arms and murmur his useless comforting words, as you realized that your future lied in convincing these strange creatures to help you return to your world.

[uniasus]

To Die With You - Part 2

To Die With You is a DP whump fic written for @whumptober, with parts shared in order of prompts, not plot. Follow the To Die With You tag to read throughout the month, or stay tuned for the whole fic to drop on Ao3.

--------

Tucker had memorized Jazz’s schedule, and headed right toward Ms. Alters classroom. He didn’t bother knocking, just opened the door to interrupt the AP Bio lesson. “Jazz, you need to take Danny home. He’s not feeling well.”  

She jumped to her feet, gathering her things as she moved. Ms. Alters protested half-heartedly, but Tucker tuned her out.   

“Keys in my locker.” Jazz turned left. Tucker followed.   

He scanned the hallway, wanting to tell her everything, but paranoia kept his mouth shut. Not like they had a code for this. Thankfully, Jazz was quick and her locker near an exit.  

“Is my brother really sick?” she asked as they marched down the stairs.  

“He’s-“ Tucker felt himself choke, and Jazz’s attention snaped to him, her had frozen on the door handle. 

“Tuck?” 

He shook his head and got in the car. They had no time. Jazz scrambled in after him and turned the engine. 

“Talk,” Jazz said and something in Tucker collapsed. When things got bad for Danny, Sam got emotional quick and Tucker had quickly learned to not. She panic and fretted, swore and made threats, 100% focused on Danny. So Tucker watched their backs, strung the needles, and offered quick solutions. 

But Jazz was older. Jazz knew how to deal. And zooming through Amity Park, plan already made and with nothing Tucker had to currently do, the tears he had been holding back for that past seven minutes fell. 

“He’s melting, Jazz.” He curled up in the passenger seat, head on his knees. “He felt weird in class and we pulled him out. But he kept having to force his heart and lungs to work, and then when he went ghost he threw them up.” 

The car accelerated, and he was pretty sure Jazz just ran a red light. 

“It reminded me of Dani,” Tucker sobbed. They’d been so close with her, but Danny was progressing faster. He just went from fine to not in seconds. Danny was actually dying. 

“I figured, grab ecto and bring it back. Stabilize him. We can take him to the Zone later.” 

“It’s a good idea, Tucker. You came up with a good plan.” 

He turned his head to look at her. Jazz’s face was drawn, but all her attention was on the road. She didn’t even flinch at the honks they were getting.  

“Once we get to the house, you head up to Danny’s room. He keeps a stash under his bed. I’ll check the lab for any extra incase its not enough. I’ll grab thermos too.” 

Right. Souping Danny up would put him in statis and make him easy to move. A ghost ambulance if they need it.  

The car took a corner too sharp, but Tucker didn’t care. He could see the Ops Center on top of Fenton Works. They were close. 

He straightened in his seat, rubbing away the tears.  

“Grab ecto from under Danny’s bed.” Saying the plan helped him. He knew what to do. He wouldn’t waste time. 

“Grab ecto and a thermos from the lab.” Jazz said her own part, eyes on the driveway. 

Tucker’s hand sat on the door handle, primed to open it. Jazz’s right hand sat on the gear shift, ready to put the car in park. 

As soon as Jazz pulled up behind the GAV, Tucker swung open the door and ran for the Fenton’s. By the time he got the door open, Jazz was on his heels and they rushed inside. 

[sucker4sixx]

Raising hell

Pt. 11

Plot: your love for nikki gets alittle too real..

Warnings: rejection

You and nikki stumble back to his hotel after a night of drinking, he sings a romantic song while twirling you around like a ballerina, both of you laughing drunkly.

“Man that was a fucking.. good night” nikki slurs as he strips “one more show” you chime in as you both crawl into bed, his warm skin heating up your skin, cold from the night out in the town. “I cant believe it, it feels like we have been touring for years” you nod “one more show.. fuck” he mutters, wrapping his arms around you as he closes his eyes. You hear him snoring and whisper “i love you..”

You wake up beside nikki, hes still asleep but has a peaceful look on his face, you study it closer, his smile lines and wrinkles at his eyebrows look much more gorgeous than they would on anybody else. You gently stroke his hair, watching as his eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light from the window behind where you lay “morning..” nikki whispers, smiling at you sweetly “morning nikki” you whisper back, watching as the bassist moved forward to kiss you softly. “Your like my on-the-road boyfriend” you grin, nikkis cheeks going alittle red at the thought of being you boyfriend “well.. i.. i dont have a witty come back for that”

You both get up and get dressed, today the bands werent doing anything so they could have a rest day before the last show so its better than the rest. “What do you wanna do today?” Nikki asks, bringing a brush down to brush out your messy hair “can we go for ice cream?” You laugh, realising how childish you sound “of course babe”

You both sit at the parlour eating your icecreams, no one has recognised you yet so the quite is good, its a dull day but the weather is warmer than you expected. Nikki sits and watches you as you zone out, focusing on every detail in your face, etching them into his memory, he doesnt know what hes going to do when the tours done and he cant see you. “So what are you going to do when the tours done?” He asks, bringing you back to with a smile. “I dont know.. ill miss it, i know i will” he nods “me and the boys are going home to record some shit, i never get a break, its frustrating” he groans alittle, stopping when you take his hand “ill miss you.. so much, you dulled my worries” you smile “i think ill miss you more” you laugh alittle “if i heard myself saying that a month ago i wouldve had a heart attack” nikki laughs.

When you and nikki get back to the hotel you just lay and relax with him, hes reading a music magazine, going through the reviews of the tour as your hand softly strokes his chest. Its all too content.

It gets to the airport, the last day. you are all flying to LA to go home. “Hey babe” nikki wakes you up by scuffing your hair, smiling seeing your sleepy, puffy face “hey nikki” you yawn, resting your head back on his chest. “You ready to go home? To finally be rid of me?” He chuckles but you instantly feel your stomach drop, thinking about being without him, your hands instantly tightening slightly as if to keep him with you. Nikki feels your hands tightening and feels that same feeling in his stomach, noticing the small frown on your face that covers your usual bright smile.

When you get on the airplane nikki, for the first time, is seated away from you, not even in view. Your sat next to doug, the guitarist of whitesnake but he doesn’t conversate. You try to get nikkis attention but hes too far, everyone sleepy and quite, so unbelievably boring.

You spend the whole flight thinking of how to tell nikki you wanted more than just a stupid fling, you wanted to be his girlfriend but nothing comes to mind, it was too late for grand gestures or poems so you knew you had to make it raw. It takes till your at your separate cabs until you turn round.

“Nikki..” you grab his hand “hey.. is everything okay?” He smiles softly, stroking your hair as he sees the worry and slight desperation in your tired eyes “i.. i cant go without telling you how i feel. Nikki, im in love with you” he glances around to make sure no one can hear “i mean it, i dont know what ill do when your not here with me” nikki turns to you with a sad look “look.. it cant happen, we live very busy life styles, i can barely look after myself.. never mind you” tears well up in your eyes “please..” you whisper desperate, your self respect so low that youve resorted to begging. “No.. i need to go now” he mutters, letting go of your hand “nikki i love you!” He jumps into his cab without looking back..

@thebsttrashpanda

[mingkismain]

long time coming

mingi x fem!reader

word count: 5k

porn w/ plot, piv, jealousy sex if you squint, also size kink if you squint, dom/sub dynamic sorta, little bit of praising and degrading, choking

MDNI, smut under cut

**7;45p**

You only lived ten minutes away from the boys but you figured you would give yourself an extra five to get there in case there was traffic. Before you left your apartment you gave yourself a final once over in the hall mirror. You had decided to keep your outfit simple since you were only going to be hanging out at their house, little top big pants for tonight. And of course to cause a little commotion you had decided to go with one of your tighter fitting, low cut, tiny tops. You nodded to yourself and made sure you had your essentials—phone, wallet, keys, and the liquor you had promised them—and made your way to the car. You sent a text to San that you were on your way over and began the quick journey.

**8:00p**

You arrived exactly on time, happy that you had left the house a little earlier. For some reason you couldn’t shake the slight nerves. You thought it was weird you had these feelings tonight, considering you had hung out with these guys so many times before and never felt like this, must just be excitement you’re mistaking for anxiety.

You sighed to yourself and went to knock on the door, before your fist could make contact with the wood the door swung open to reveal Yunho.

“Oh my GOOOOOD here she is!” He swooped you up into a huge bear hug, allowing you to smell the liquor already in him.

“Hello Yunho! Seems like you got a head start,” you laughed as he nearly dropped you to the floor. All the commotion brought the other boys to the door. They all took their turns saying hello and giving you hugs. Mingi was one of the first members aside from Yunho to come give you a hug. When you saw him come towards you you took a slightly deeper breath in. He looked good tonight, and from the once over he gave you and your figure, he thought you looked good too. Once he closed in on you and gave you a hug hello, lifting you off your feet for a second, you felt some sort of new feeling. The gaze he held with you once you were back on your feet also gave you a little wave of butterflies, but it didn’t last long as another member swooped you up and away from him. But something inside of you was telling you he would be trouble tonight.

Once the welcomes were over you all made your way into the kitchen. On the way Hongjoong made conversation with you, draping his arm over your shoulders.

“So how have you been? How has your latest project been going?” He made his way to the mountain of liquor bottles and made himself a drink. You followed behind him and made a drink with the liquor you brought.

“It’s going really well! These drafts are hopefully getting their last round of edits, and after that we can get started!” Joong was referring to the film you had begun working on, the budgets had finally gotten approved and the last edits of the scripts were getting a [hopefully] last once-over before production began.

“That’s great! I’m really excited for you,” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, bracing himself on his arms. The way he was standing, his arms flexed in such a way you couldn’t help but stare, you only realized you were zoned out when he waved to get your attention again.

“You like what you see?” He pushed off his arms and moved closer to you, his chest nearly touching yours. You snapped back to the current moment and realized how close you two were now standing. You could have sworn he was about to lean in and try to kiss you but Yeosang and San came running into the kitchen yelling. The noise made Hongjoong take a few steps back, both of you now standing there with flushed cheeks.

“Everyone get in the kitchen we’re taking shots right now!” Yeosang rummaged through the cabinets while yelling for the rest of the boys to get in here. San joined him in the search for the shot glasses, pulling them out of the cabinet once he found them.

The boys all gathered around the kitchen island, everyone at different intoxication levels; Yunho being the most drunk, next being Yeosang and Seonghwa, San, Mingi and Wooyoung joining them, and Hongjoong, Jongho, and yourself trying to catch up. San poured the shots and distributed them around the kitchen island, he yelled at everyone to wait before they took their shots, as he wanted to say something first.

“All right listen! I want to make a little toast before we drink. Now I just want to say how much I appreciate all of you and I’m really happy we could all be here tonight,” He smiled and motioned for everyone to raise their glasses. “Now, let’s all get on the same level as Yunho and have a good time!” And with that everyone whooped and hollered as you all took your shots, Wooyoung and you sharing a grimace at how the liquor tasted. You and him running to the fridge to look for some sort of chaser.

“I usually don’t do shots, but when Yeosang tells you to, you just follow his orders,” Wooyoung reached over the fridge door to grab your drink out of your hand and steal a sip.

You nodded, “I mean how could you not listen to him when he looks like that? Yeosang could get me to do anything if he asked right.”

Wooyoung chuckled at your remark, as he leaned off the fridge door so you could shut it, San made his way over to you two, wrapping his arm around Wooyo’s waist.

“Hi San! Having a good time?” You stood up from the floor and leaned on the fridge.

He pulled Wooyoung closer to him, making him blush, “I definitely am, think I might have a few more drinks. I’m down to do another shot if you two are?”

Wooyo shook his head, “Look as long as it’s not the tequila that just had me and her running to the fridge, I’ll do it. But definitely no more tequila.”

You nodded in agreement with Wooyoung and San shrugged his shoulders, loosening his grip on Wooyo’s waist as he made his way to the liquor bottles. San pulled out some of the bottles, clinking them as he did so. Then he made his way to the fridge to grab more ingredients for whatever he could be making. Wooyoung and yourself watched as he worked his magic in front of you.

Once he was done he yelled for the boys to come back to the kitchen, you groaned as you realized what he had just made.

“That’s right! You two are going to do blowjob shots! No hands, just use your mouths!” San seemed so impressed with himself, the other boys started cheering and hollering. “Now, first one to get the shot down gets a slap on the ass.”

You cackled at the winners reward. You knew Wooyoung wouldn’t mind San slapping his ass, but you wanted someone else to slap your ass, and here he was making his way over to get a good look at what was going on.

Even though Mingi could clearly see over the other members, he still wanted to be front and center to watch you take this shot, you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn’t look at him just yet. As you stared forward, you heard San count down.

“3...2...1! Shots!”

Both you and Wooyoung had your hands behind your backs as you licked up the glasses to get to the shot. As you licked the whipped cream off the glass you looked up to see Mingi staring right at you, licking his lips as you two locked eyes for a moment.

You could get used to looking at him from this angle.

You looked back from him over to Wooyoung to see him struggling to get the glass into his mouth, you laughed as you were able to get the shot glass into your mouth with ease and down the shot quickly. The boys cheered as you took the shot glass out of your mouth. Wooyoung gave up and grabbed the shot glass with his hands, accepting defeat.

“Looks like we have a winner!” San cheered, “now as promised, winner gets a slap on the ass!”

Oh shit, you had forgotten that the ass slap was for the winner and not the loser. You laughed as San made his way over to you, hand already winding up. His hand came down with a pretty audible crack.

You yelped, “oh my god San did you have to be so rough with it!? Do you slap Wooyoung’s ass this hard?”

He laughed, “I slap his ass WAY harder than that! You got lucky.”

Wooyoung stood next to you cackling at San’s remark while Hongjoong grabbed some more liquor and poured another round of shots, you and Woo groaning at the thought of mixing even more liquor. Hongjoong filled up the shot glasses once again and passed them around the island. As you picked yours up you noticed the liquor was pink, you held it up to your nose and sniffed it, almost gagging at the all too familiar scent.

You groaned, “Pink Whitney???? Really Hongjoong? You’ve got to be kidding me, where did you even find this white girl shit anyways?”

He laughed, “I found it while we were on tour in America, I liked it so much I brought some home with me.”

You pulled a face, you couldn’t believe him and the others liked this stuff. I mean sure it wasn’t the worst, but too much could lead to some terrible decisions.

Anyways, Hongjoong counted down from three, then you all cheered as you took your shots, You and Wooyoung having to fight to keep yours down considering you two just did blowjob shots no later than five minutes ago.

You and the boys made your way into the living room where Yunho hooked his phone up to the speakers to put the music back on. He put on something booming with a heavy bass. By this point you could definitely feel the effects of the liquor taking over. You made your way over to the center and started dancing with Hongjoong, encouraging the other guys to come dance. Everyone made their way over, except Mingi. He watched from the couch, his eyes never leaving you, and with a little help from the alcohol in your system, you decided to give him a show.

You knew Mingi was attracted to you as much as you were to him, you had just never acted on it. Partly because you were so intimidated by him, and partly because you hadn’t realized up until recently when you two had shared a few too many moments that just couldn’t be written off as accidental.

You continued to dance with Hongjoong as Mingi kept his eyes on you. It started off innocent, just sharing a space, copying each other’s moves, then you started to close the space, getting close enough to make your chests brush against each other. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Mingi shifting in his seat, looking like he was getting ready to stand up, you looked up at Hongjoong to see him staring down at you, although you weren’t sure it was a friendly stare. There was something in his eyes, but you just wrote it off as all the alcohol catching up to him and kept dancing.

After some time Seonghwa came in and stole you from Joong, spinning you around like you were in a ballroom. At one point he spun you into a dip and you let your head hang back. As you looked towards the ground you could see a long pair of legs making their way towards you, and you had about two guesses as to who could be approaching.

You hadn’t heard what Mingi said to Seonghwa but he gave you up as his dancing partner and you were now with Mingi. You were a little nervous as to what your actions had led up to, but you were also turned on by it, wondering what it could make him do.

Yunho had changed the music, it was still bass heavy, but it was a slower tempo. Mingi pulled you in closer to his chest and you two swayed to the music. At some point he leaned down so he could whisper into your ear, “You know, I know what you’re doing here. Making a scene, trying to get me jealous.”

You tilted your head back to try and reach his ear, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just here to have a good time with my friends.”

He huffed a laugh, “honey, you are going to get yourself in trouble. You’re playing a dangerous game here.”

“Who says I don’t wanna get in trouble?”

“Y’know, I definitely could have pinned you for having some sort of thing for that.”

You turned now to face him, “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Mingi raised his eyebrows at you, instead of saying anything he spun you back around so your back was flush against his chest, you two dancing along to the beat.

You looked around the room and noticed San and WooYoung were still up dancing, borderline dry humping each other. You saw Seonghwa and Hongjoong sharing a joint on the couch, Yunho going to join them. You weren’t sure where Jongho had gone off to, might have passed out somewhere considering the time. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Yeosang in the kitchen, making another drink.

As the night continued into the late hours, you and him continued to sway in the living room, every so often he would kiss your neck and you would push your hips up against him to work him up. You two kept dancing until most of the others had gone off to bed. At some point Mingi couldn’t stand the teasing anymore and led you to his room, shutting the door behind you.

He spun you around so your back was against the door as he got closer to you, “like I said earlier, you’re playing a dangerous game tonight.” He closed you in with his arms above your head.

You tilted your head up so you could look into his eyes, “and like I said earlier tonight, who says I don’t want to get into trouble?”

He huffed, “c’mere pretty girl.”

He finally closed the distance between you two and kissed you. He brought his hands down to cup your cheeks, then continued to move them down until he reached your ass. He gave your ass a squeeze, encouraging you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. He didn’t stop kissing you as he made his way back to his bed, laying you down so he was on top of you. He spread your legs open with his knee and settled himself in between them. As he did this his hands started to wander again, moving from your ass to your hips, up to your breasts. He stopped kissing you and looked at you, “is it okay if I touch you?”

You took a second to catch your breath, “yes it’s okay, please touch me.”

With your approval he snaked his hands under your shirt, his large hands stretching out your top a little. He didn't stay at your breasts long enough, they were just a stopping point as his hands traveled further up your chest, eventually resting on your neck. He pulled back to look at your face as he experimented with the placement of his hands. You gave him a little nod and he started to tighten his grip on your throat. You instinctively placed your hands on his wrists as you gasped at the feeling, rolling your eyes back a little.

Mingi smirked as he came down to your ear, "who knew you'd like this? I haven't even touched you yet and I've already got you in the palm of my hand. Such a good slut for me."

You were so shocked by what he said you let out a little whimper, "more- Mingi I need more."

"Don't worry love, I'm just getting started with you."

He loosened his grip around your neck and moved to strip you of both of your clothes. Starting with both your shirt and his, then moving to remove your pants and panties. Leaving him in his pants and you fully naked.

He leaned back down to kiss you, slowly trailing from your lips down to your neck, stopping to bite and leave a mark or two. He then moved down to your breasts, kissing down your stomach, and finally to where you wanted him most.

When he was finally eye level with your core he kissed up your thighs, "you're so fucking beautiful, I'm going to absolutely ruin you."

Before you could react to what he had just said he licked a painfully slow strip up your pussy. You gasped and reached to tangle your fingers in his hair as he started to eat you out. You'd never felt a tongue as big as his on you, it felt like he could swallow you whole. He continued to lick and suck, focusing mostly on your clit, making your legs start to shake. He pulled back once he felt your legs closing in on his head, "such a good girl, taking my tongue so well. Let's see how well you take my fingers yeah?"

You looked down at him and nodded, silently pleading with him to give you what you wanted.

He put his thumb on your clit, lazily rubbing in circles, "no baby that's not gonna cut it, I need you to use your words."

You tightened the grip you had on his hair and whined, "Mingi baby please, use your fingers on me, I need you in me please."

He quickened his pace on your clit, getting just a little faster but not enough to bring you even close to your orgasm, "see? That wasn't so hard now was it? Now be a good slut for me and take what I give you."

The sounds that came out of you as he finally inserted his finger into you were damn near inhuman. Just his one finger in you felt like it was too much, he had you moaning uncontrollably and you were starting to get too loud. He brought his other hand back up to your throat and squeezed,

"Shh, can't let the others hear how whorelike you're being can we? Be a good slut for me and keep your voice down or you'll pay for it."

You'll pay for it?

Well how could you say no to that?

A wicked smile flashed across your face as he continued pumping his finger in and out of you, every few thrusts he would hit your g spot, you decided on one of those thrusts you would let out a rather loud, borderline pornographic moan. He tightened his grip on your throat again and came down to your ear, biting it before he whispered, "With what you just did I'm beginning to think you like the idea of being caught, huh? You want someone to come in and see how much of a little slut you're being for me."

He added another finger to you as he kept his hand around your throat, not grabbing at you anymore, but it was just resting there, reminding you to behave. With his added finger he quickened his pace, stretching you out and bringing you closer to your edge. His fingers felt like they were splitting you in half, you couldn't imagine what his dick would feel like, you moaned at the thought of him breaking you in half.

He moved his hand off of your throat and moved back down so he was facing your cunt, as he kept pumping his fingers he added his tongue to your clit, making you arch your back off the bed and grip his hair again. You were panting and shaking as he continued his relentless pace on you, feeling your orgasm sneaking up on you, you tugged on Mingi's hair, whimpering, "baby 'm getting close."

"Beg for it."

You tried to open your half-lidded eyes to look at him, "wha-"

He pumped his fingers in and out of you harder, "I said beg for it slut. Beg me to let you cum."

You could hardly form a thought and this man wanted you to beg? It took all the energy in you to give this man what he wanted, but you tugged at his hair and whimpered, "baby please let me cum, I've been so good for you, I need to cum please-"

He stopped sucking on your clit but continued to fuck his fingers into you as he looked at you, "you think you've been good enough for me? That's cute." He pulled his fingers out of you and you whined at the loss of sensation. He leaned back as he started to slip his pants and boxers off, cock finally free and in front of you. Your jaw almost fell onto the bed as you looked at him, he was huge, both thick and long. You were starting to think he really was going to break you in half tonight.

He crawled back ontop of you, guiding his cock to line up with your entrance, "You want this baby?"

You grabbed at his shoulders, practically clawing at him, "yes, please, please baby give it to me."

You both looked down to see him sliding into your cunt, stretching you out. Both of you moaning at how it felt.

Once he bottomed out he looked at you again, "you alright honey? Feel good?"

You nodded, "yes, please fuck me."

He propped himself up on his elbows and began to pound into you, his cock hitting everywhere you needed him to hit. He felt so big inside of you you were sure you'd feel it tomorrow and the day after.

The sounds of him fucking you and both of your moaning started to fill up the room, Mingi long forgetting what he had said about keeping quiet.

He leaned in to kiss you, "look at me baby, wanna see how good I'm making you feel."

You opened your eyes to look into his, you immediately felt another wave of arousal hit you, there was something about looking into his eyes as he drove into you that made it so much hotter. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek and pull him in for another kiss, he moaned your name as he pulled away from you.

"Wanna flip you over, fuck you from behind."

You nodded and pushed his shoulders a little so he would get the idea, pulling himself out and flipping you onto your stomach, lifting your hips up off the bed. He lined himself up with your entrance and thrust himself into you, totally bottoming out, not giving you any time to adjust to the new angle. You had to bury your face into the pillow to muffle the moans you were letting out. He roughly gripped onto your hips as he began to pound into you, fucking you into the mattress. He took his one hand off your hip to land a smack across your ass, you gasped at the feeling.

"Yeah, that feel better than the one San gave you earlier?" He landed another one and you let out a moan.

"Yeah baby that feels so good, do it again please." He indulged you and smacked your ass again, drawing another moan out of you.

With all of the stimulation Mingi was giving you, you could feel your orgasm sneaking up on you, panting and whimpering as you got closer.

"Mingi baby I'm getting close again, can I please cum this time please?" You turned your head so you weren't talking into the pillow, turning your head so you could catch a glimpse of his face. He looked so hot like this, brows furrowed tightly together, mouth slightly hung open, panting and moaning as he fucked you hard.

He reached down to pull you up by your hair, pressing your back into his chest while he continued to fuck you, "I think you've been a good little fucktoy for me. I think I'll let you cum this time."

You moaned as thank yous fell from your lips, his hand coming down to rub your clit. All the stimulation was getting to be too much, with a few more thrusts Mingi could feel you cumming on his cock, your legs shaking as moans and whimpers escaped from you. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm as he chased his own high, overstimulation slowly creeping up on you.

He pushed you back down as he continued to chase his own high, his thrusts started to feel more feverish and his panting got louder. He leaned over you to whisper into your ear, "where do you want it baby?"

"On me."

He nodded and kissed your temple before sitting back up and thrusting into you a few more times. You heard him moaning as he pulled out and jerked his cock a few times before he came all over your ass and back. Moaning your name and groaning as he rode out his own high. When he finally came to he leaned back over to you, "stay right here, gonna go get a towel. Be right back."

You lowered your ass down so you were laying flat on his bed, you were in a post sex fog. The sound of the door shutting brought you out of the deep fog, then the feeling of the damp towel on your lower back helped bring you out some more. You sighed at the feeling of it on your skin and your heart swelled a little at how gentle Mingi was being right now, as if he didn't just call you a slut and pound you into next week.

Once you were cleaned up he reached around on the bed to find your underwear and one of his shirts for you to wear, when you put it on you were practically swimming in the fabric. Mingi found his boxers and slipped those on, then pulled you in for a deep kiss.

He sat back down on the bed with you and pulled you into his lap, "did you enjoy yourself love?"

You sighed and kissed him again, "yes, you're amazing. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah, you're fucking perfect."

He gently pulled you off his lap and laid you down next to him, pulling your back to his chest. Once he started to play with your hair it didn't take long for you to fall asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining in your face and a throbbing pain between your legs. You sighed and tried to stretch, only to find huge arms wrapped around your waist, Mingi sound asleep behind you. You stirred a little, hoping to gently wake him up, but it was no use, he was still out cold. You tried one more time to gently wake him up, and it worked a little, he started to open his eyes.

"Good morning Mingi."

He took a deep breath, yawning in the process, "good morning doll, did you sleep well?"

"I did, did you?"

"Yes love."

You sat up on your elbows and faced him, "Are you hungry? I am and I can smell someone cooking in the kitchen."

He smiled, looking up at you, "yes I could eat, you wanna go see who's cooking?"

You nodded and made your way out of bed, only for your legs to horribly ache, you had to brace yourself on the bed for a second, Mingi stifling a laugh behind you.

"Oh wow, wonder what happened to you," He said through laughs, "looks like you went too hard doing something last night."

You sighed, "yep. No idea what could have caused this."

You both laughed at each other and left his room, you made your way into the kitchen to see everyone had beat you to the island. Seonghwa and Yeosang were making breakfast, San, Yunho, Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and Jonho were gathered around the island, everyone in different states of hungover and tired. You said a good morning to all the boys in the kitchen, half actually saying good morning back, the other half groaning.

Seonghwa turned around, "You're just in time, breakfast is ready."

Everyone perked up at the idea of finally eating, everyone grabbing plates and bowls and practically shoving their chefs out of the way.

Yeosang and Seonghwa shared a side glance, "animals." Yeosang huffed as he went to make another pot of coffee.

Once everyone had their servings you all sat down at the kitchen table, everyone silently enjoying their food.

That was, until San spoke up, calling your name to get your attention, "so...you think Mingi is the better ass smacker of the two of us?"

You nearly choked on your coffee, "do I what??"

Everyone paused to turn to San to see what he would say next, "Oh Mingi forgot to tell you? Him and I have the pleasure of sharing a wall, and I heard a few things you two were doing last night." He turned to talk to the rest of the table, "And apparently Mingi has better hands than I do!"

The rest of the guys fell into a fit of laughter, you and Mingi sharing the same red cheeks.

At the damn breakfast table?

Could've waited until at least lunchtime.

||

crossposted to my ao3 as well

do not re-upload or translate my work.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Swim

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us (HBO)

Ship: Joel Miller x you (cishet f reader)

Tags/warnings: Yearning, Joel is bad at feelings and doesn't understand hints (or just chooses not to), female nudity, ogling.

Summary: You take a swim in a lake while Joel watches. That's it, that's the plot.

Words: 2,046

There's something about moving through the forest where nothing is heard except for the wind in the trees and the birds in the sky. The smell of moss and resin fills your nose, and the air is so clean it's almost making you high. The ground yields slightly under your boots, making it seem like you're floating forward. This is a far cry from the crowded quarantine zone with its downtrodden pavements and smell of dirty people. If you didn't have this, you would probably have put a gun to your own head a long time ago. But you do have this, and you greedily grab each and every opportunity to experience it.

Joel's breathing heavily behind you. The two of you have been walking for hours and even here, in the shade of the trees, it's a little too hot for comfort. Your hoodie is tied around your waist and you're in your t-shirt and jeans only. Joel's still soldiering on in his flannel. No wonder he's boiling.

Between the trees, you see something glimmer. Water? You stop and stare, Joel almost walking into you.

"Watch it," he grumbles, perhaps more to himself than to you. When he realizes that you're staring off into the distance, his hand goes to the gun at his side. You hold out your hand to let him know it's okay.

"Is that a lake?" you ask, pointing in the direction you're looking. With a deep exhale, Joel wipes the sweat from his brow before squinting.

"Looks like it."

"Let's go there."

"We're making good time," he objects, but you can see he wants a break.

"We're not expected back yet, and we need to rest," you point out. "I'm getting hungry."

"Alright," he agrees, and you lead the way, your feet even lighter now for knowing they're getting rest.

The lake is just as lovely as you hoped for: clear blue water, surrounded by forest and with cliffs on the opposite side, a family of swans swimming in the middle of it. You find a spot where willows grow right by the water, and their crowns serve as giant parasols as you go down to the water's edge. The water is refreshing but not too cold, and you exhale in a satisfied sigh as you splash some in your face. A light breeze comes in from the water, and you close your eyes against it, smiling as you forget the state of the world for just a moment.

Behind you, Joel groans quietly as he sits down on a small, flat rock and picks out rations from his pack. Biting into the tough jerky, he looks as morose as ever when you turn towards him.

"Lighten up, Miller," you can't help but tease him, "when was the last time you went on a picnic like this?"

"Who says I've ever been to one?" he glares. You shake your head and pick up a piece of dry meat from your backpack.

"That explains so much."

You turn your back against him and look over the waters. The swans, two parents and four gray babies.

"Swan babies are called cygnets, did you know that?" you ask, admiring the graceful birds.

"No."

"My mom taught me that. There was a park near where I grew up... there were swans there every summer..." Your voice trails off. You and Joel never talk about the past. And although it's been so long, you still miss your mother terribly. Thinking about what once was can be dangerous. It can make you long for something better, and there doesn't seem to be any light on the horizon.

"Swans mate for life, don't they?" Joel asks in a low voice that makes the hairs at the back of your neck rise. Nobody can drop down as many octaves as Joel when he speaks about things he really doesn't want to share - or when he's trembling with held back rage, fists tightly closed, ready to start swinging.

"Yeah," you confirm, your tongue suddenly a little thick in your mouth. "They mourn their dead partners, too."

He grunts something at that, and for a moment you are at a loss at to what to say or do. It has been clear to you for a long time that Joel cares about you, although it's easy to miss if you don't know him. But you do know him, or at least know something about him, and you know for sure that he wouldn't have been with you for such a long time unless he cared. The easy camaraderie you share may not be physical or affectionate, but it is one of the few good things you have in this world.

That, and the forest. And this beautiful lake with its clear, fresh water that glitters in the sunshine.

You become aware of how sweaty and dirty you are, and it's very easy to make up your mind.

"I'm going for a swim."

"What?" Joel raises a brow at you, and his chewing stops for a second.

"I'm going swimming," you articulate, bending down to untie your boots. Joel gets up, frowning in discontent at you kicking off your boots. You straighten your back and meet his gaze.

"It's not a good idea," he tells you.

"We're too far away for infected, and we haven't seen anyone here for days," you shrug. "It's just a quick swim. We're far more exposed when we sleep in the forest at night."

Joel can't argue with that, but he tries.

"There's other things out here to watch out for."

"What, Jaws?" you scoff as you untie the hoodie from around your waist, and throw it on the ground. Joel's grim face lets you know he's not amused, but it's too nice a day for you to get into a scowling match with his grumpy ass.

You pull down your jeans, and he averts his eyes.

"It's not safe," he insists.

"You're here, aren't you?" you point out, your voice a little more subdued now. He glances at you before looking to the side again.

"We should get going." His objections are getting thinner and thinner.

"You are more than welcome to walk on," you shrug before pulling your t-shirt over your head. "I can take care of myself. You dont have to wait for me."

"I know - " He turns back to you and notices that you are, in fact, quite naked. Your panties are in a heap at your feet, and you're stepping out of them. His gaze is burning on your bare skin and you bite into your lower lip as you raise your chin.

"You sure you don't want to come into the water?" you ask him quietly. Joel tears his eyes from your body, finding your gaze again. He swallows, and that tiny crack in his composure is all the encouragement you need.

"Or maybe you want to watch?" you add, a little leery, but a tremble runs through you body as you realize that you are flirting. And Joel is not scoffing, not looking at you with contempt, not running away. He kicks a little at the ground, almost looking at you sideways, but his eyes are glued to the ground.

"Go ahead, then. But make it quick."

The water is wonderfully cool and you wade out slowly, testing your footing for each step. The bottom is rocky, but most of the stones have been smoothed flat, and almost slippery with seaweed. When your thighs are steeped, you lean forward, push off with your feet, and glide through the water. You gasp at the initial coldness but your body quickly becomes used to the temperature. Your strokes are first slightly clumsy, unaccostumed to swimming as you are, but your muscles quickly remember how to do it.

"Don't go too far out," Joel calls from the shore. So he is watching. You glance back to catch his eye, but he's busy scanning the surroundings.

The joy of taking a nice swim on a hot summer's day is not diminished, so you turn around, treading water, and call back: "Come on, Miller, don't be a landlubber! You can swim, right?"

He looks at you then, face resting in the shade of the willow, eyes scrunched up against the glitter on the surface of the lake. You wish he could let the his face relax, just for a little while, just for a moment so that you could see what he looked like before the world as you knew it ended, on a sunny day by a forest lake, with friends and family, maybe lovers, or by himself, perhaps fishing, just enjoying life...

"I can swim, but I won't if you get yourself in a situation," he now warns you, and you sigh. Sourpuss.

"The water is really nice..." you tempt him, floating on your back and wiggling your toes at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, gesturing a finality that you just don't feel like arguing with. There's a part of you  that is angry with him for being so uncompromisable, but you can't blame him for being who he is. If he wasn't who he was, he might not be alive, he might not be the one who protects you, he might not even be here with you.

You dive, arms and legs carrying you back towards the shore, and resurface, drawing air into your lungs. Now Joel is staring at you, as if your disappearing underneath the surface wasn't of your own volition. His shoulders sink a little when he sees that you're okay. Your feet touch the rocky bottom and you stand up, the water reaching you to your chest. Slowly, you make your way to the shore, your eyes fixed on Joel's. Your nipples knot under his scrutiny, and when the water reaches halfway up your thighs, his gaze drops to the dark triangle fully visible above the water. Your skin has cooled off but heat begins to pool deep inside your belly, traveling up your spine before dripping down between your legs. You don't stop until you're standing right in front of him, blinking droplets from your lashes, lips parted to let your excited exhales escape.

Joel rakes his eyes over your wet body, takes it in like no one has in years, like you had never imagined him capable of, and you have often imagined him as a man of a significant amount of talents. You don't shrink under his scrutiny, quite the opposite: you relish it. You want him to worship you with his eyes, take his fill, feast on you until looking is no longer enough.

He raises his hand, that rough, large hand that has pulled countless triggers, hurt innumerable people. You're not afraid, you've never been afraid of him. Palm up and fingers slightly bent, his hand is moving almost in slow motion towards you, to touch your breast. You wait, heart skipping several beats, and you almost flinch when his calloused palm brushes against your soft flesh.

Something rustles in the shrubbery behind Joel, who reacts in a split second. With one smooth move, he has pulled his gun, spun around, and is pointing the gun at the edge of the forest. Your legs shake as you take a step back to get closer to your backpack, where your gun is. But before you get to take it out, the lower branches of a bush nod, and a rabbit hops forward.

You both stare at the damn critter like you've ever seen one before. Eventually, Joel lowers his gun.

"Fuck."

You exhale in a strained chuckle. "Shoot it, we'll have dinner."

The rabbit, however, has already fled at the sound of human voices, and Joel is clicking the safety back on his gun before he puts it away. Without turning around, he tells you in a tight voice to get dressed.

"I want to be back before nightfall."

Fighting to control your trembling hands, you slowly get dressed and grab your pack. Stomping past Joel, you swing the bag widely onto your back. It slams into his arm, but you don't apologize.

He never apologized for bruising your heart, so why should you apologize for trying to protect it?

[yelena-bellova]

UNLUCKY: A STRANGER THINGS STORY (OC) - CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Chapter Thirteen: Just Another Day

Series Masterlist l OC Profile

Plot: Nearing the one year anniversary of both Will’s disappearance and Christine’s arrival, life in Hawkins goes on (seemingly) as normal.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: child experimentation, child a*use, language

A/N: Well, it only took two years but here we are! Switching this story to OC is one of my favorite decisions I’ve ever made. I hope anyone who decides to read enjoys it <3

—————

1977 // Hawkins Laboratory

When raising children, every parenting book advises to keep consistency. In an ever changing word, kids thrive on knowing there are certain things they can depend on. Pizza for dinner every Wednesday night, their favorite cartoon playing on a Saturday morning, a bedtime ritual with their parents.

In the case of Martin Brenner, his children could always depend that when it came to their lessons, he was always on time.

Like an eager schoolboy, he waited, or sometimes even walked them to the training room. He’d never show his glee, but there was a joy underneath that only belonged to the sickest individuals. It took a true sociopath to revel in child experimentation.

On one occasion, it was Thirteen’s morning to spend with Papa. She sat at the metal table in the small room, hands nervously gripping the sides of her chair, knowing what he would ask her to do before he said it.

Brenner leaned down, “Okay, Thirteen. Let’s try this again.”

Thirteen glanced down at the picture in front of her. A man, tall and bearded. The same one as the day before.

She shut her eyes.

Breathe.

Focus.

Find him.

With all her strength, she tried to slip into the darkness and locate him. She could hear his thoughts, his voice, but she couldn’t see him.

Thirteen opened her eyes, tearful, and looked to her Papa.

“I can’t.”

“Try again,” he encouraged.

She was tired. Ever since Brenner had noticed she was unable to locate beings as well as the other children, he’d been working her harder. Pushing her to get the maximum results. It had been three straight weeks of individual sessions.

Thirteen gave a hiccuping little cry, “I can’t find him.”

“Try again, Thirteen,” Brenner pushed.

“I can’t-“

“Try-“

“I CAN’T!”

Brenner and the personnel behind the glass startled. The children were rarely ever so disobedient, particularly Thirteen.

“Alright then.”

A buzzer sounded and the door opened. Two orderlies came into the room and grabbed Thirteen by the arms.

“No,” she cried, her voice raising each time they didn’t listen, “No! No! No!”

They carried her out, lifting her into the air when she tried to drop her legs. She couldn’t go back there.

“Papa, please,” she screamed, “No!!”

Brenner did not watch as they dragged her away. It was for her own good.

Thrown into the room kept for when the children acted up, Thirteen scrambled to her feet. The door was about to close.

“Don’t leave me here,” she screamed as she ran, “PAPA!”

The lock clicked.

Thirteen fell to her knees and wept. She had tried, she had tried so hard. But she couldn’t force what wasn’t there. She could do other things, better than some of her brothers and sisters, but she couldn’t do this.

She curled into a ball on the floor, waiting an undeterminable amount of time for Brenner to let her out. The only condition of her release was the same each day: that she’d do better tomorrow.

—————————

October 30th, 1984 // Hawkins High

A sharp poke to my arm brought me back to reality.

I turned to see Jonathan nodding towards Mr. Davies. I’d completely zoned out. Luckily, our test had been last week and I could afford a moment or two of distraction.

It wasn’t often that I had flashbacks to the lab, but when they happened, they hit hard. It was going to take a lot of work the rest of the day to try and shake it off.

The bell finally rang and the class rose, descending into their own conversations.

“Where’s your head?” Jonathan smiled.

“Lunch,” I replied, trying to move on, “If you drive, I’ll pay.”

Nancy squeezed through the aisle to join us, “Are you guys going off campus for lunch?”

“It’s meatloaf day,” I settled my backpack on my shoulder, “That’s a no-brainer.”

The three of us filed out with the rest of our class. At the door, Tina was handing out bright orange fliers. Nancy and I each took one, but Jonathan swerved around her hand.

“Could I get one more?” Nancy asked, catching up with us and pushing the paper into Jonathan’s hand, “You’re coming to this.”

“‘Come and get sheet faced,’” he read aloud, “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, come on, it could be fun,” I said.

“We can’t let you sit all alone on Halloween,” Nancy went on, “That’s just not acceptable.”

“Well, you can relax,” Jonathan looked between us, “I’m not gonna be alone. I’m going trick-or-treating with Will.”

Nancy was unfazed, “All night?”

“Yeah.”

“No, no way,” Nancy shook her head, “You’re gonna be home by 8:00, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something.”

Jonathan shrugged, “Sounds like a nice night.”

“Will you help me out here?” Nancy looked over to me.

As much as I wanted a night with both of them, I could never get in the way of Jonathan and Will. I had the same sense of duty, regardless of how secretive I had to keep it.

“I don’t even know if I can go yet,” I replied, earning a groan from Nancy, “Hopper might want me to stay in.”

We stopped at Nancy’s locker. “Okay, we’ll work on Hopper,” she said, “But Jonathan, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone.”

Just then, a brown haired blur shout out from around the corner, picking Nancy up and spinning her around. I jumped back a little, Steve was anything if not subtle.

“Take those stupid things off,” Nancy playfully smacked Steve’s chest, referring to the sunglasses that were part of their couple’s costume.

“I missed you,” Steve gushed.

“Can you miss her and not give others a heart attack?” I sarcastically smiled. He waved me off.

“It’s been, like, an hour,” Nancy replied.

“Tell me about it,” Steve pulled her in for a deep, almost inappropriately affectionate kiss.

I turned around, ready to make a joke to Jonathan, but was met with empty space. Looking down the hall, I could see his silhouette moving fast. With Steve and Nancy occupied, I slipped away.

Balancing both friendships was tricky. Nancy, Steve and I could be around each other no problem, so could Jonathan and I. But there were all these invisible lines that couldn’t be crossed. I didn’t mention Jonathan much to Nancy or else she got quiet, and bringing Nancy up to Jonathan was just mean. In a perfect world, I could have all the people I cared about together, but there was too much history for it to be that simple.

I slipped my arm around Jonathan’s shoulder, saying more with silence than I could with my words.

As we walked through the parking lot, a car I didn’t recognize was parked close by Jonathan’s. Glancing through the open window, a long haired blonde guy was sitting in the driver’s seat. He was the kind of handsome that every girl but me seemed to find attractive. With a cigarette perched between his lips, he angled his head to examine me. There was something about him that set off every alarm in my body, like smoke before a fire. It didn’t help that he was running his eyes up and down my body. I felt exposed.

Nervously, I averted my gaze and got into Jonathan’s car.

—————————

I had a few minutes after lunch and decided to walk to the middle school. At least once a week, I checked in on Lucas, Dustin, Will and Mike. I felt a protectiveness over them that had only grown over the last year.

When I got up to the schoolyard, the four of them huddled around a trash can. Dustin was wrist deep in garbage, hanging out of the can.

“Hey,” I hesitated as I approached, there was a general chorus of my greetings. “What’s, uh, what’s going on?”

Lucas shrugged a little too casually, “Nothing.”

“Christine!” Dustin was still dangling, “Got it! There we go!”

He pulled himself out of the can, unrolled a ball of paper and the four of them read it aloud.

‘Stop spying on me CREEPS!’

“Well, shit,” Dustin exclaimed,

I picked up the paper and read it, “Do I want to know?”

“It’s, uh,” Dustin struggled, “It’s complicated.”

“Uh-huh,” I raised a brow. For as much as they told me, there was a lot they didn’t.

“William Byers,” we turned to see the principal coming around the corner, “Your mother’s here.”

Will swallowed and looked to us. There was a silent understanding of what was going on. Will attended therapy sessions to deal with the trauma of his ordeal last year. Joyce would pull him out of school on those days to take him the office. It was all going well and he was learning to cope with it all.

That was the version everybody else got.

Those of us who knew Will knew he was being accompanied by Joyce and Hopper to Hawkins Lab to undergo a series of tests. The doctors now inhabiting the place wanted to try and understand what Will had gone through in the Upside Down. The first time Hopper had told me about them, I freaked out. Will couldn’t be anywhere near there. Hopper had reassured me that with Brenner gone, this was an actual research team who wanted to try and help Will. Nevertheless, I’d never been onboard with it.

I smiled at Will, trying to appear encouraging. He’d begun to confide in me about feeling like an outsider. He’d also told me he hated the tests. I tried to be as there for him as I could without triggering my own memories.

I followed the boys around the side of the building. They paused at the front corner to watch Will and Joyce leave.

“You guys think he’s okay?” Dustin asked.

“He’s always weird when he has to go in,” Lucas answered.

“I don’t know,” Mike said, “He’s quiet today.”

“He’s always quiet,” Lucas turned to me, “Has he talked to you?”

I shook my head, “No more so than usual.”

Once their car had pulled away, I looked at my watch. Five minutes to make it back to class.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” I offered.

“It’d be a lot easier if Hopper bought you a Supercom,” Dustin dug into the syllables, “Or let anyone into your house.”

Hopper wasn’t the problem. Having any form of communication with the boys would be too tempting for El to resist and naturally, nobody could know where I lived. It was easier to let them think Hopper was just cheap and grouchy.

“Feel free to talk to him about it,” I replied.

Dustin debated internally, deciding going up against Hopper wasn’t worth it. “We’ll call you.”

I smiled before looking to Mike. Out of all of them, I knew him the best purely because I was at his house all the time. Lately, he’d been more reserved. “You good?”

He nodded, somewhere between glum and faking fine. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” I was forced to accept the answer. I now had four and a half minutes. “See you guys.”

“See you,” they all said, heading their own way back to school.

Once I was sat in English class, I felt a sense of dread building in my belly. The same one that had been there for weeks. It was only getting stronger as the days went by.

——————

Before knocking on the cabin door, I made sure the flier for Tina’s party was pushed to the bottom of my backpack. If Hopper saw it, he’d want me to go. I felt I owed it to El to stay in witn her on a day I knew she desperately wanted to be a part of.

I gave the secret knock and the door unlocked, “I’m home!”

El rose from her seat on the couch, leaving her seemingly unbreakable bond with the TV.

“How was your day?” I asked as I gave her a hug.

“Good,” she answered and looked up, “Your day?”

“Good,” I sighed. Her eyes drifted to my backpack. “I checked out a new one for us to read,” I pulled it out, “Little Women. It’s all about sisters.”

El weighed it in her hands and examined the cover. Hopper typically read to her at night but on weekends, the two of us would huddle on the couch with something from the school library.

“Cool,” she nodded and headed back to the TV.

“Hopper’s not back yet?” I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass.

“No,” she answered.

Hopper and I made a point of not being late to get home. El depended on our routine more rigidly than we did. It was a rare occurrence he wasn’t on time.

“Something must’ve come up,” I filled the glass with tap water, coming over to the couch and flopping down next to El.

She looked across the cushions to me, “Mike?”

My visits to Hawkins Middle School were two-fold. I wanted to check on the boys, but I was also reporting back to El. She wanted to know they were okay, especially Mike.

“I saw him,” I nodded, “He’s fine.”

“Good?”

“Yeah,” I fibbed, “He’s good.”

That was enough for her. She turned back to the TV and watched the infomercial playing. With a closer look, I could see her eyes were glazed over.

“You’ll see him soon,” I reassured, “I promise.”

When I’d started that promise, she’d been wide eyed. Dreaming of reuniting with her friends. Sometime during summer, her responses had gotten tired. Lately, she had barely been acknowledging what I said. ‘Soon’ was starting to lose all meaning.

————

Unlucky Taglist: @lanadelray1989

[dipplinduo]

This isn't a headcanon but I've been working on writing my own dipplinshipping fic and I was wondering if you had any advice on characterization? I love the way you write all the characters in Sweet & Sour Dipplins, and I would love tips. :)

Aww no worries I love questions like these and feel moved that you'd ask me!

I honestly try to keep two things in mind when it comes to characterizations:

How can I honor the original characterization, and add onto it?

I don' t know if this is a controversial take in the fic writing world, but I personally don't like to heavily deviate from the way a character was originally written. I like to instead research the character, get a feel of how and why they were created in the first place, what their motives and drives are, their likes/dislikes, distinctive traits, etc., and then I like to expand upon that. I do this specifically to help immersion into the given fic; I'd want you to see the way the character becomes more multidimensional - and perhaps changed across time - in my writing, but I'd also want you to be able to look at it and go "yeah, that is kind of on brand for that character in canon" or "I could imagine canon character doing this in these circumstances".

How can I show the complexity and uniqueness of the character in their thoughts (if applicable) & actions?

This is related to the first point, and it's really about breathing the life into how your version of a character interacts with the story. When you're writing from their standpoint, make it their standpoint - even if it's not something you'd be able to personally see in their shoes, and present their logic in some way that makes sense for them personally. And don't be afraid to play with a moral gray zone that prompts the readers to form their own opinions as they get to know the plot & characters!

Some examples...

Kieran's hot-and-cold development of feelings toward Juliana and subsequent "lashing out" scenes at her and other characters. A lot of people naturally sympathize with Kieran, but at the same time, the possession caused him to act out in ways that were harsh or mean. But at the same time! We know why! But at the same time! Was it still okay given the lack of accountability?

I have had Penny, Nemona, and Arven all agree that they were concerned about Kieran & Juliana's relationship, and there's a lot of overlap in their concerns. However, the way each made sense of and expressed their concerns were in entirely specific ways to each of their characters' dispositions.

My goodness, the reactions to the most recent chapter drop (Chapter 19) has been so entertaining and fascinating to witness as the writer. Some people do not like what one character said to another in a confrontation scene. Others agreed with the character, but thought it was too much. Others were like "FINALLY, IT WAS SAID. THANK YOU CHARACTER." And like, tbh, this is just amazing to see. I love it when discussion points can be made about different aspects of a plot/character themselves, and I'd love to just sit in and listen to a back and forth conversation with people on all sides. xD It just really shows an immersion, and I think that's amazing and touching. These are just my opinions, but yeah. Hope this helps a bit! :)

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

dc brain rot anon: hi hello OKAY tl;dr: it’s messy and just about to end as a series, but yes taylor’s nightwing is worth a read

so we’ve JUST gotten beardy dick in the most recent two(?) issues of taylor’s nightwing, but overall it’s been a decent run? it’s got adhd, let’s just say that. there are a lot of dropped threads or things we just sort of hand wave away, several tie in issues to ongoing dc events that distract from the plot, and it relies on flashbacks a lot… but you get great things like haley, dick going on a pirate adventure dressed like a harlequin romance novel cover (aka TITS OUT!!), dick having a half sister, and OMG LIL BABY DICK. you wanna pinch his cheeks. honestly, it’s very hawkeye coded how beat up and ridiculous this man is in this run, and redondo’s art makes him SO pretty. tbh the messiness of the plot aside, the whole concept of suddenly inheriting a lot of wealth, deciding to better your community, protecting your own backyard and the people in your building from organized crime and corrupt cops…? fraction/aja hawkeye energy. it’s even more reason why i’m piloting that kate/dick crack ship.

Screaming weeping fainting etc

WHAT clintcoded bullshit I adore it

Imagining Dick and Clint meeting on reddit or smth on a "landlords who aren't assholes" sub and Clint being like whoa...this sounds so familiar dude!!!

They agree to meet up and Clint brings Kate with to translate (Does not tell Dick OR Kate this btw Kate thinks they are having a friend date not working CLINTON)

Okay I just started reading this run of nightwing and Dick owns the whole block? OK but what about the bodega across the street? Clint and Kate buy up the boarded up offices because they're diversifying. Also they don't trust the guy who bought up a bunch of residential buildings across from them so it's kind of an observation thing. Kate opens her office there and is...living in it, which is probably against a zoning law or something and Dick has his eye on her. They see each other across the street a lot and give each other Pointed Glares. Lucky escapes containment and winds up in Dick's apartment and nobody knows how. (except Bitewing. She knows)

Anyway they are lowkey suspicious of each other. When Dick is hanging out on the roof/fire escape, Kate has a habit of going out on HER roof and singing very very loudly, sometimes with friends. Just to annoy him. She's gotten "Some Nights" stuck in his head so many times.

Anyway. Very suspicious of each other until Dick makes his announcement about the Alfred Pennyworth Foundation and suddenly Kate lives across the street from a billionaire who is being dogged by the press, who are BLOCKING THE BUSINESSES?!?!? The press needs to gtfo??? Look, you can move on your own, she can call the cops, or she can move you herself, but the cops will be nicer than she will, now maaaaybe if you make a purchase from one of the restaurants on the street she will give you an extra fifteen minutes to move but it's a minimum of thirty dollars!!!! Begone!!!

Dick has no idea this is happening he just knows the street was packed with press and half an hour later there was nobody.

Kate swings by about a week later with groceries (she is not looking at Dick) because it's probably hard for him to go shopping right now since he gets mobbed by reporters but like whatever it's just stuff from the bodega across the street and the community garden a few blocks over and maybe she swung by a grocer or something LOOK the point is it's not a big deal she's just being neighborly great ok bye tell your dog I said hi--

Dick interrupts her with 2 questions

1. How did she know which apartment was his? (She knows which fire escape he's usually on, she counted windows)

And

2. Are there eggs in there? He can make pretty good omlettes, does she want to come in for an omlette?

And then he SMILES at her and Kate just goes oh nooooo. Because that is a pretty smile and a pretty man, potentially the prettiest man she's ever seen. and he does make a good omlette

and ugh he's actually really nice and funny UNACCEPTABLE. now hawkeye has to make sure he doesn't get his dumb ass killed by rich assholes with hired guns. and unrelated, she winds up kind of taking care of Nightwing who keeps doing dumb shit with a severe head injury so Hawkeye gets stuck hauling his passed out giant self to her apartment to patch him up.

idk i'm in love with them

[steelbluehome]

The Hollywood Reporter

A Different Man’ Review: Sebastian Stan Drops the Mask in a Provocative Dark Comedy With a Heart0

Renate Reinsve ('The Worst Person in the World') and Adam Pearson ('Under the Skin') co-star in writer-director Aaron Schimberg’s twisted New York-set fable.

BY JORDAN MINTZER

JANUARY 21, 2024

Looks can be deceiving in A Different Man, writer-director Aaron Schimberg’s endearingly twisted take on actors, playwrights, egos and the plight of the profoundly disfigured.

Like the famous “Eye of the Beholder” episode of The Twilight Zone, in which humans turn out to be society’s freakish outcasts, this dark comedy suggests what happens when an aspiring thespian afflicted with neurofibromatosis manages to find a miracle cure, only to long for the life he had when he was still deformed.

The thesp in question — a nebbishy New York actor named Edward, or Ed — is played with tongue-in-cheek gravitas by Sebastian Stan, who dons several layers of prosthetics (courtesy of ace makeup designer Mike Marino) until peeling them away to reveal his true face. But that hardly gives Ed the life he bargained for, in a film that piquantly questions how others look at us and, more importantly, how we look at ourselves.

The fact that Pearson is stricken with neurofibromatosis, and that Stan wore tons of makeup to mimic that condition, may raise a few eyebrows. And yet A Different Man is very much about art imitating life and vice-versa, contemplating the different masks — whether real or artificial — we put on when going out into the world.

At first, the story plays out like your typical NYC indie dramedy, with Ed living in a grubby one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn while trying to make it as an actor. He has a nosy super, at least one neighbor who hates him, and there’s a leak in his ceiling that grows so big it risks swallowing him up. The catch is that Ed’s disfigured state makes him completely stand out, at least to the viewer. For those who already know him, he comes across as just another shy and curmudgeonly New Yawka.

Things start looking up when a new neighbor, the radiant Ingrid (Renate Reinsve, The Worst Person in the World), moves in next door. Like Ed, she’s an aspiring artist — a playwright, in fact — and the two soon hit it off, even if Ed is very much inhibited by his looks. Ingrid is more open-minded and curious, and one novel aspect of Schimberg’s script is how, unlike in David Lynch’s The Elephant Man, nearly everyone Ed meets treats him with respect and compassion.

Schimberg explored a similar theme, albeit in a more artsy fashion, in his 2018 behind-the-scenes drama Chained for Life. That film co-starred Adam Pearson, who many may remember from his haunting sequence opposite Scarlett Johansson in Jonathan Glazer’s Under the Skin, and who winds up stealing the show here as a totally charming and nonchalant threat to Ed’s newfound existence.

The failing actor’s humdrum life takes a major turn when he agrees to participate in an experimental drug program that could cure his condition. After several scenes of Cronenberg-esque body horror, he starts peeling away his tumors like a snake shedding its skin, transforming into a brand new person with Stan’s well-defined face.

You would think this would all be for the better, but as A Different Man goes on to reveal, things actually get worse. Ed soon comes to miss the man he once was, especially when Pearson’s character steps into the picture and very casually hijacks his life, including Ed’s burgeoning love affair with Ingrid.

That and other plot mechanics in Schimberg’s screenplay can seem a bit over-the-top, particularly when Ed begins to lose his mind in the third act as everything unravels. Still, the story’s twists and turns maintain our interest throughout, with the narrative taking on a cleverly deconstructed play-within-a-film format reminiscent, at times, of Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York.

The antics are captured in grainy naturalistic visuals by Wyatt Garfield (The Kitchen) and backed by a score from Umberto Smerilli that shifts between indie vibes and the classic melodies of Hollywood B-flicks. A Different Man shifts between several genres as well, but Schimberg manages to tie things neatly together by asking the same question, in various ways, until the very last scene: What’s in a face?

[larathia]

Anime Review: The Saint's Power Is Omnipotent

As with a lot of lengthy series titles, this one tells you a lot of what you need to know. The meaning of the title is, this series is not about the Saint getting progressively more powerful. It's telling you up front, just assume the main character has unlimited magic power so we can move on.

The series is a romance. And just so you all know, I'm basically aromantic so this review is probably not going to go as you might expect, either. (Hint: I'm not trashing it.)

The series is pretty low-stakes from start to finish. You're never in any real doubt as to who the Final Beau is going to be. He never has to fight to win Our Heroine. Nothing like that happens. Likewise, while Our Heroine has to deal with dangerous foes (after all, they summoned her for a reason), you're never in much doubt it's all going to end okay.

This is one of those series I think of as 'gentle' - you watch it for amusement, not to be thrilled or put through an emotional wringer.

The amusement, for me, was in the background of the world. The worldbuilding here was intriguing and touched on things I don't usually see much in isekais - that is, on the cultural impact of being suddenly dropped into a world that's quite a bit but in no way exactly like your own. Half the tangles that arise come from the women (and there are two, although the second woman is really just more of a plot device) not being familiar with societal norms regarding women's behavior in their new world.

What interested me was in how the underlying assumptions managed to make a lot of the interactions get an underlying Exceedingly Skeevy tone to them. It's pretty clear just by episode 2 that the world around Our Heroine is very interested in Who She Likes - and who she might be induced to like. The beta heroine winds up in a lot of trouble (relatively speaking) over this. By the mid-story, both women have to bear in mind that there are actual lines of noblemen jockeying for the chance to propose to them, and that marriage is not an 'if' but a 'when'.

It's strongly implied that the king has a LOT of say in who gets to the front of that line, although the Saint's power being based in love does quite a bit to mitigate the danger.

I don't want to portray this as some kind of "we'll lock you in a room until you marry Dude X" thing. It never gets remotely that fearsome. However, the way the men in this series are characterized, it's not hard at all to picture a bunch of them taking that tactic with a woman who a) isn't the Saint and b) doesn't have the power to fry them to a crisp.

The romance is sweet, I think - again, I'm aro, I mostly zoned out for those parts - and at least our Heroine is an adult and so the blushing and eeping is rather less than I was afraid I'd have to endure.

I'd say the series is worth a watch, if you're looking for something pleasant and slow-paced that isn't too likely to be emotionally upsetting.

[oh-negative]

Un named hellsing fic part one

Greetings mortals, hear a first taste (ahaha..) of a fic we started on…let’s us know what you think or if you’d like to see us add on! We have great ideas for the plot but we’re still pretty rusty…it’s been a while,enjoy!

……………………………..

As a kid you loved reading, both fantasy and non fiction, anything to escapes into another world outside of your own.

It didn't matter if you were learning about the infinite galaxy's light years away, historical figures of yore, or even magical worlds filled with adventurers and princesses to be rescued from the furthest roomed tucked away in the highest tower....

But your favorite was the supernatural. Nocturnal creatures who danced with shadows,beasts who transversed in the full moon or phantoms who haunted empty halls of abandoned cathedrals.

So it was no supervise you chose to study folklore, despite being the top of your graduating class. Unfortunately that wouldn't have flyed under the roof of your parents,who would be funding your time in secondary education,so you spent your college years bent over bio engendering textbooks,essays on organic chemistry and genomics only to balance them out with your secondary course of study; folklore and mythology.

    Your parents, though less the thrilled about your minor courses- not seeing them as practical- just learned to drop the subject after a while....after all how can they continually bug you about it if your status on deans list never seemed to budge. Mom still would occusually fret over the extra work load distracting you from your other classes,But you insisted you knew what you were doing, and once you got you first big girl job, neither could have been prouder. It took a couple years after graduation to land it, in the mean time working as an intern in a biotech company doing mainly intern related work- but you made it. 

Your hard work paid off and you were given the opportunity of a lifetime to work across the pond,..England to be exact. 

Looks like those secondary courses paid off. Your academic writings on the biology of the undead & how they could help cure viruses landed on the right desk - somehow you knew your pandemic ramblings were well justified after all.

               It's been seven years since you made the long, and far, move to north London to serve as the leading specialist of the bio-science of the supernatural & undead at the renowned protectors of his majesty & London itself;

                                                                          Hellsing.

   CHAPTER ONE: 

                    North France; 1:00 AM 2030

It took everything in you to control the eye twitching,brain numbing prodding being spoken before you, after all you did promise Integra you would be on your best, and certainly not sarcastic, behavior. But truth be told you knew even some promises had to be broken in order to get what you wanted...and right now what you wanted most was for the three older gentleman seated at the oval table before you to stop talking, agree to your request, so you could go back home and possibly sleep on the way there.

Ever since the pandemic of 2020 one of your main areas of study was how to possibly save lives with the use of supernatural DNA. For you it wasn't about politics,eugenics, or increasing the human lifespan- it was about saving lives, But of course in the wrong hands that could absolutely be the case. But no matter how serious the whole matter was you could almost feel your eyelids threaten to close for a second,before you had to re-explain yourself to axis powers who never seem to age out of their political standing...sometimes you wondered if you should be studying them instead of the things that go bump in the night.  You clear your voice to speak up over the men once more, who have started chatting amongst themselves while you zoned out briefly...

     " sir, with all due respect, I feel like our division at Hellsing is really on to something, the only problem is...we have no one to test...most supernatural creatures- ..mainly of the the vampiric persuasion immediately turn to dust and iron when killed or exposed to direct sunlight. Our bio-science fraction have proposed a idea that I think will help us further the possibilities of pursuing test subjects " 

Now that the eyes have all fallen back on you, you feel your posture stiffen and all of a sudden you understand why Integra always went around in her studious apparel-..confidence, and for a brief moment you wish you'd have waited for her availability to allow her to come with you..until you remember the type of anxiety induced headaches she can cause with her presence.

A man you knew as France's security for NATO urges you to continue,eyes sternly fixed on you, the others follow suite waiting for you to continue

" yes miss y/l/n/h please continue...surely you're not considering testing humans ...are you?"

" no sir" you clear your throat " it's a little bit more difficult,like I said it's pretty much impossible to get a sample of the undead without endangering myself or others, the samples I do have are not enough,not nearly pure enough. My prospect is this.....by now we know the catacombs all over the world - including the ones here in Paris- have had undead remains found perfectly preserved. That's no coincidence. I believe through the text we have obtained in our field of study that we could find remains that have not been destroyed to use as possible testing subjects."

You watch jaws drop over what you have considered to be the least invasive thing humans have done for the sake of "saving lives" since antiquity and can't help but to wear your smugness bluntly in the face of their surprise.

"Your wish to …transverse the catacombs?!"

" precisely "

You extend your hand, the manilla folders holding your months worth of research across the table, as you watch the prime minister's facial expression briefly resemble that of a child who just tasted a lemon for the first time.

Hours pass, in that time you have defended your credentials at least a half a dozen times, sworn to the country of France, England and the United States that you're not bat shit insane, and eventually folded to a group call back to fletchley to have your boss back you up. You really didn't want to have it come down to that, as it was your first time dealing with a conference by yourself, but hey, when your boss saved London and,essentially the world, from an undead super army of nazis, she makes a good trump card. You would just have to prepare for the verbal lashing for interrupting her own meeting when you arrived back to London.

Some hours later in north London

You felt exhausted by the time you and  the security guard who accompanied you to France returned to the Hellsing manor. No matter how fast the private jets were, it always found a way of draining you. The sun was well past the horizon by the time you got into the entrance, saying your goodnights to the security guard before starting the trek to the corner of the manor that housed your own dwellings. Briefly you consider going to your work space located in the basement, but thought against it. Knowing a certain draculina would be waiting to chastise you on your priorities. Surely she already knew of your safe arrival.

An elevator ride later to the upper floor where the personal chambers were and a long walk down a corridor before you couldn't help but to let out the longest, draining sigh as you opened the door to your quarters.

You looked down at your phone. Dead. No doubt there was probably some questionable text messages from boss lady as well as some emails that could use your attention- but after a long day of arguing your years worth of education in order to get the grant and support from a bunch of crotchety old  men,your were exhausted and decided it would be a problem for the morning,as you set it on the charger dock at your bedside table.

It was all you could do to kick off your shoes and slip off your jacket before plopping into your bed and immediately succumbing to the day's events,sleep consuming you almost immediately. Apparently a shower would have to wait as well.

You fall into such a deep slumber,the kind where it knocks the sense of time out of you,wrapping you in an unconscious blanket of blackness. With slumber falling on you so heavily you didn't so much as twitch when the sound of bullets being discharged from a pistol rang out into the night during the wee hours of the morning,alerting the residents of hellsing to an intruder.