#and almost died twice this session

[parasite-core]

A vargouille is one of the first monsters I ever fought in pathfinder nearly a decade ago. My ranger Vespa shot it through the mouth and it died before it could do any real damage.

The next time I fought a vargouille, it got smashed into a door like an egg.

Tonight my PC got paralyzed straight out of the door against a vargouille and almost died to its transformative kiss.

Oh how the turn tables.

[irlwolfdog]

I fucking love DnD

[bella-goths-wife]

What would have happened if Vs pet made a deal with a different overlord

So basically we know what would happen if Vs pet made a deal with alastor and obviously vox, but what would happen if they sold their soul to Velvette, Valentino, Rosie or Carmilla instead

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, SA mentions, abuse mentions, forced affection, forced cannibalism, reader is uncomfortable, violence mentions

Velvette:

Now we know that even though you’d still belong to all the Vs collectively, if you made the deal with Velvette instead of Vox there would be a large power dynamic shift in terms of your care

Let’s say that Velvette found you first and was the one to make a deal with you, you wouldn’t be working for vox as his assistant in this scenario and would instead be a model or assistant to velvette

In the usual au where vox owns your soul, he is the one who creates your rules and enforces them

He’s the one who decides whether the other two can see you

But if velvette owned your soul instead then that entire dynamic is turned upside down, she’s the one who makes your rules and she’s the one who decides whether or not she’ll let vox spend time with you

This would absolutely infuriate him, and velvette can’t help but smile at that

Your rules would be much less restrictive if velvette was the one who owned your soul

Unlike vox who sees you as a surrogate daughter figure most of the time, velvette only sees you as a delightful little pet and occasional friend

And she understands that sometimes pets need a walk or a new toy to keep them occupied until she’s ready to play with them again

So you’d be able to leave the tower by yourself more often and you’d be able to hookup with people, but there is still a strict ban on forming intimate connections or starting relationships

Velvette requires your attention almost all of the time, and you can’t give her that if your chasing after some romantic partner

She should be enough of a connection for you!

You don’t need anyone else

You’d still be shared with the other Vs unfortunately as they share everything, so you’ll still have to deal with Valentino and voxs antics

But at least velvette will draw the line if she thinks they take up to much of your time

Your her pet after all, you sold your soul to her

A downside to velvette being your souls holder is that you’d be the weakest with velvette when it comes to your abilities and fighting skills

She doesn’t want you to improve so you don’t, you only use your power for frivolous purposes and for velvettes entertainment rather than actually using like a weapon like you would with vox or alastor

She doesn’t push you to get better, so you don’t get better

You’d have twice the attitude with half the power because of how velvette taught you and how she spoils you with materialistic things

Rosie:

Rosie would absolutely adore you

She has a soft spot for strays, and she’d heard quite a bit about you from alastor before he disappeared

And she once she met you she thought one thought, what a good friend she’d be if she took your soul in exchange for care and shelter before offering the contract to alastor when he gets back from his extremely long break

So she’d give you a job in cannibal town and she’d give you an entire makeover so you’d fit in more

She’d actually spend time to get to know you and what your life was like before you died

She can’t help but miss alastor when your around, you just remind her so much of him

She’d use your ability to create background music for her gossip sessions and for her party’s, but she’d also encourage you to use it as a weapon and practice with it in your own time

So you’d be more powerful than you would be with velvette but less powerful then you’d be with Vox or alastor

A downside to being in her care is that she wouldn’t be as protective as the others

She’s a busy woman who can’t be with you at all times, so there is a slight chance you may end up hurt while being in her care

She’d do her best to prepare you in case that happens, and you like that she offers you enough freedom to come and go freely enough

Another downside to being in Rosie’s care is that you’d have to adapt to her appetite unfortunately, it’s not like you can find a non cannibal place to eat in a cannibal town

So you’d be practically forced into cannibalism

But Rosie absolutely adores you, so she’ll look the other way sometimes if you want to eat something less gorey

She calls it a nice treat :)

Rosie would consider you a companion more than anything, maybe a goddaughter but she certainly doesn’t see you as a pet or a toy

So you’d be pretty happy with Rosie

But she gets so attached to you that when alastor does return, she refuses to give him your soul no matter what he offers

But it’s okay, because she says he can visit you any time in your home in cannibal town

He hates it but oh well, your her little darling fawn now

Valentino:

Oh god

He’d be the absolute worst choice on the list

If you sold him your soul, your guaranteed a situation similar to angel dusts

Maybe less abusive, but wayyyy more obsessive

You’d be a simple actress in a few of his videos until he becomes obsessed with you, and then you become his personal assistant

And when I say personal, I mean extremely personal

As in the ‘sleeps in his bed every night because he’s afraid you’ll run away’ personal

He wouldn’t see you in a romantic light, more of just a ‘your my possession’ light

You’d be absolutely miserable and constantly in his presence while also dealing with the other Vs

He’d force you to do videos for him and instead of your rules he’d use a ‘reward’ system

Rewards like ‘hold me for a few minutes and I’ll let you be on your own for an hour’

He’d be unbearably clingy and can sometimes get abusive with you, the same way he can be abusive with angel dust

You’d also be extremely weak because he won’t let you practice or explore your abilities at all

If he’s there to protect you at all times, then why would you need to be able to use your silly abilities?

He’d at least allow you to have your friendship with angel dust, but that’s only because he’s using you both to manipulate each other

He’d definitely get you hooked on something so you’ll be relying on him at all times

This would be the worst possible situation for you

Carmilla:

Carmilla would be interested in you because of your ability and how she could use it

She’d find you living on the streets and using your ability to get by and she’d wonder if she could incorporate your skills into making a new weapon designed for people with animal like ears which would be more sensitive

So she’d exchange your soul for her giving you shelter and a job in return

You would stay with her and her daughters and you’d spend most of the day with carmilla helping her design new weapons

It would be during this time that carmilla would become more obsessive with you and start to view you as a daughter

You were so young and so vulnerable, it reminded her of her two young girls and how she’d hate it if it was them

So she’d start acting more motherly with you, but she’d do it slowly so you could get accustomed to it

So she wouldn’t go straight to giving you rules and demanding you call her mom, instead she’d just make it more obvious that she views you as one of her family and that she’d appreciate it if you felt the same for her

But once you do accept her in some form, those rules are coming fast

And you know carmilla will not tolerate back talk or breaking rules

You’d have typical teenage girl rules, stuff like a curfew and drinking rules

But she’s still take the time to respect your boundaries and acknowledge that your an adult in your own way so she can’t act too overbearing

Which is more than you can say for the Vs

You’d also be quite powerful in this scenario because she’d give you training sessions to help with your personal abilities and your fighting skills

So I’d say she’s one of the better options

[dead-boys-club]

†  kisses : shigaraki.

❥ scenario: kissing tomura. ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested! it is a whole mess.

✧*̥˚ some stuff *̥˚✧

tomura comes off as a rather aloof person; someone with many walls and deep rooted trust issues. so, if you're kissing me, we can already assume your relationship to him is one build over a good amount of time. it would be a very, very intensely personal experience for him. he's not used to physical touch by any means, so it would put him in an almost awkward mindset. he probably wouldn't fully know how to process being so.. ( god, i use this word a lot, i'm sorry ) vulnerable and close.

kissing him would be soft and slow. he would be hesitant, like you were something fragile, also trying not to fuck something up. he's navigating something new, so it would take time for him to get the hang of it. and, it would make him smile - which is a feat all in it's own. he would show you this small, gentle smile; a genuine expression of warmth and adoration that's incredibly rare.

i can't even put into words how soft this man would be over kisses. and, he's not going to be picky once he gets the hang of it. he would really, really enjoy:

moth kisses

forehead kisses

jaw kisses

slow make out sessions

in the beginning, he would ( idk, is this surprising? ) not be in control of shit. he would actually hand the reigns over to you and enjoy the ride.

the thing is, he's a really good kisser???? because any time he kisses you, he's kissing you like it's the very last time. he's got a hand on the back of your neck, fingers settled against when your hair stops, just.. drowning in the intimacy of the moment. his other hand gripping onto your shirt at your side - he'd have hell letting go.

he's obsessed. and, honestly, unless he's in a foul mood, it's the best way to distract or help him feel better. though, i should add, i feel as though he'd become just a tad bit clingy towards you once you made it to this level of intimacy.

if i keep going, i'm going to go down a rabbit hole of trapping him on the couch and kissing him til neither of you can breathe, SO - i'm going to slide down into a scenario.

✧*̥˚ tiny things *̥˚✧

❥ moth kisses: ( so, do you remember the last time we actually saw him play a game? no? me either but- ) moth kisses are mostly to attempt to annoy him, which.. may only actually work once or twice. the type of kisses you give when interrupting him. when you just cup his face and kiss all over, quickly, not giving him a chance to do anything about it.

❥ forehead kisses: god, please, give him forehead kisses. he really appreciates them in the morning or before bed, the way you brush his hair aside and linger for a moment. i feel like this is a gesture that really makes him understand that you're there for a reason. and you're genuine.

❥ jaw kisses: when he's working on things, you generally know better than to fuck with him too much. so, as you're tucked up beside him, that's when you nose and press little kisses to his jaw. you try not to jostle him too much.

❥ temple kisses +: this is more of something he does for you. because it starts as temple kisses, his eyes closed as he layers kisses over the spot for a few seconds. he'll slowly move down until he's nosing at the spot behind your earlobe, either humming or whispering little things. very much a private moment that no one else sees.

❥ the aforementioned slow make outs: usually when this happens, he's either tired or it started because he was in a shit mood. he likes how it starts as just small kisses and then turns into closing his eyes, lungs clenching, need building but it's still going so slowly, it's nearly killing him.

❥ the one time you almost died: because it was in the middle of a fight. it wasn't your fault that when you caught his gaze, you both seemed to stop. however, when you plant an unexpected kiss on his lips before disappearing into the fray once more, he's briefly distracted and a little agitated. you were being reckless but fuck if he didn't continue on with wanting more of you.

✧*̥˚ first kiss *̥˚✧

withdrawn.

that was somewhat normal but he seemed even further gone than usual. his responsibilities and the pressure on his shoulders, it was starting to wear on him and you could see it. the way he sank into the arm chair, picking at the hem and staring off into space. it wasn't something you enjoyed seeing.

you shift from your spot by the doorway, approaching to settle on the armrest of his chair, lifting his hand into your hold. a few minutes past in silence, neither of you feeling the need to say anything. you could see some sense of helplessness behind his eyes, making you frown and squeeze his hand. he didn't pull away despite how he flinched, fingers curling into the touch.

'tomura..' you said softly, not really know what could be said in the moment, considering he'd never done too well with encouraging talk. 'i'm here, you know?'

it took him a second before his head turned, guarded expression briefly flickering to give way to something softer. he didn't say anything, gratitude seen in his gaze. it wasn't hard to identify the conflict going on behind his eyes, something you knew you couldn't do much to fix or aid in. the most you could do was attempt to distract.

you didn't think about it too much, or at all, when you began to lean closer, the distance between you shrinking quicker than your mind could keep up. you were really leaning far too close into the personal space of one of the most dangerous men you knew and couldn't really stop. your heart felt like it was in your throat the moment your lips pressed against his own. the kiss was tender and hesitant, lasting only for a moment.

when you pulled back, you weren't sure how to act. his eyes were slightly wide with bewilderment, frozen and free hand anchoring him to reality with it's grip to the armchair. 'why...?' he began, barely above a whisper, not trusting his voice. you could hear the confusion, clear as day, but beneath it - there was something else. the smallest note of longing.

his voice completely erased the mild panic that had grown and you just smiled, light and careful. 'because you matter to me? because i adore you. and, i want to be there for you.. in any way that i can be.'

you weren't expecting to make a confession and he surely wasn't expecting to receive one. thankfully, he didn't respond to that. 'thank you,' was all he managed to get out, taking in the words and warmth that spread through him at the kiss.

the room fell quiet once more, though the atmosphere shifted into something new. there was a newfound understanding created from the simple, yet profound, moment of intimacy.

and, it would only grow from that moment on.

[lesbiankimdahyun]

Summer Session II

700 words

CW: N/A

A/N: um, guys Y/N is a lewser and Sana knows it

[Sana x F!Reader] 

Requested: Yes

You texted with Sana sparsely throughout the week. It was a delicate dance for you and your growing anxiety. You didn’t let yourself reply to her more than twice a day, desperate to appear cool and aloof. After enough pain-staking back and forth over a couple days, you had plans to meet her for a drink on Friday night. On the train ride back downtown, your phone buzzed. You nearly dropped your phone trying to pull it out of your pocket to see who had messaged you. 

Chae 🍓: are u ready for your (friend) date, superstar!!! 

You: hi! no! why am i THIS nervous 

Chae 🍓: oooh you liiiike her now 😏

You: say that again and i wont tell you how it goes tn 

Chae 🍓: OKAY okay sorry 

Chae 🍓: but if she becomes your new bestie over me i’m fighting her 

You: NEVER i promise

You tried not to gulp cartoonishly when you arrived at the bar Sana had suggested meeting at. It was a three dollar sign type of bar, and your meager internship wages told you you’d only be drinking a single drink tonight. 

As if reading your mind, Sana insisted the first round of drinks was on her. The two of you sat up at the bar sipping drinks that used ingredients you’d have never found at any of the cheaper college bars closer to campus. Stupidly expensive, but the gold leaf that swirled in your glass was pretty, at least. The conversation between the two of you started out with safe topics like school and internships, but Sana, you found, was fun to talk to. Your conversation with her continued to flow naturally into other topics like music and shows. You were just about to ask her what her availability looked like for next week in hopes of meeting up again, when she turned to face you. 

“So, Tinder, huh?” she asked, a playful smile on her face. 

You felt your face burn. Sana signaled for two more drinks, giving you a millisecond to try and compose yourself before you died of embarrassment right there in the dark, moody bar. 

“Uh, yeah. It– it was mostly to try and make friends,” you stammered. Sana nodded slowly. 

“Mostly, sure,” Sana said. “Have you had any luck? Or– are you seeing someone?” she flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder casually, and the crisp, fresh scent of her hair products felt intoxicating suddenly. “I can never remember who in our cohort does and doesn’t have a significant other.” 

“I haven’t,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “And no. I got stood up for the first time ever like right after moving here…” you paused to take a sip of the fresh drink in front of you. “Kinda took the fun out of wanting to find someone,” you said. 

Sana frowned. “You’re way too cute to be stood up,” she said. 

You blushed. “Oh, well–” 

“Forgive me,” Sana cut you off. “If this is like, entirely too forward…” she nearly drained her glass as she raised it to her lips to drink. “I know you said you’re using the app for friends and that’s cute, but I think I saw your profile say you’re a…” her gaze found yours. “...service top?”

“Oh god,” you cringed, mentally kicking yourself for putting that on there in the first place. “You saw that?” 

“Yes,” Sana said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Personally, I’d love to see for myself sometime.”  

“You– what?” You almost laughed, thinking she was joking at first. But then Sana gave you a once over and you nearly fell over. She wasn’t kidding. 

Wordlessly, Sana flagged down the bartender. She paid for both rounds for both of you. As she signed her name on the receipt, she looked at you again. “Are you free tomorrow night?” 

You nodded dumbly, moving to stand when she did. She hugged you. Had her perfume always smelled that good? You couldn’t remember now. When you pulled away, you must have had a deer-in-the-headlights expression on your face, because Sana giggled. 

“See you tomorrow,” she said, brushing your arm lightly. “I’m free after seven. Wear something cute.” 

[kinardsevan]

Okay, prompt. Tommy and Buck are having slow shifts and one of them decides to call the other.

consider this as existing in the same timeline as to can’t outdrive pain (someday it’s gonna take the wheel)

we survive

Tommy sighs, pushing a piece of paper across the table.

“Riley, you have to at least try to make your art not be derogatory,” he states in a gentle but firm tone. “Miss Sidney isn’t going to let this fly.”

Riley rolls his eyes, tossing a conte crayon onto the table. Charcoal scatters as it cracks in half, and the teenager crosses his arms. Tommy frowns, reaching out for the crayon and setting it back inside the box he’d brought with him.

He’s no stranger to Riley’s moods six months into this endeavor. What had begun as a way to fill some time after breaking his elbow and having to miss weeks of work has become part of his weekly ritual now, occasionally twice a week when he can swing the extra time. Evan has joined him a number of times when the time off has lined up, but today he’s alone.

Riley Collins was almost sixteen and had a rough background, one Tommy could relate to only too well. His mom had died when he was three, and he was left with an alcoholic father who cared so little that at seven, he’d been found digging in a neighbors trash can for food. That had begun the teen’s childhood in foster care, but it hadn’t been the end of it. He’d cycled through multiple foster homes with while struggling with attachment issues. There was a year-long period when Riley was eleven where his father had gotten sober, regained custody, and things seemed like they might get better. Except, Riley had been the ringer by that point. He’d lived in homes with emotional and verbal abuse. He’d seen parents hit each other, and occasionally hit the children. He’d seen sexual abuse through the tiny window of where his blankets didn’t completely cover his eyes when cries of his foster siblings woke him in the middle of the night. He’d faced some of those situations himself, and by the time he cycled back into his fathers home, he wasn’t the same little kid who had learned to become self-sufficient when his father was lost to the bottle.

Either way, Riley’s father made it six months before his sobriety with Riley back home went to hell. There was a DWI, and then an occurrence where Riley showed up to school with a black eye and bloodied nose. Then he was locked out of the house. CPS was still so involved at that point that he was quickly placed back in foster care, but the writing was on the wall at that point. Even though he’d been placed with a family with good values, he was a mess. There were stolen things, broken possessions, a flirtation with breaking the law. Ultimately though, it was a full-on brawl he got into with an uncle which led to his placement in the group home. And the thing was, he was a great student. He could stay invested in his school work and the routine it required without a problem. But when it came to people…he was a mess.

Tommy couldn’t help but reflect that back to his own childhood.

“This is so fucking lame anyway,” Riley bemoans.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? You seemed to think it was cool three days ago.”

“What the fuck do you know, old man,” Riley replies, scowling at him. He shoves away from the table, and Sidney is up out of her chair quickly, already calling after him, but Tommy raises a hand to her.

“Let me go,” he tells her softly. Their group is usually a bit bigger, but with school being back in session, half of them have signed up for extracurriculars, so there’s only three today, and Sidney has the other two pretty well covered with whatever they’re drawing.

She looks at him with a hint of apprehension, but then nods, settling back into her chair.

Tommy picks up his sketchbook and moves around the table, walks out the back door toward a picnic table where Riley is pushing a stick into the aged wood, trying to peel a piece of loose long grain with it. He dares a glance up at Tommy and then sighs, looking back down at the table.

“Hey kid. You wanna tell me what that was all about,” he asks, crossing the space between them but still staying a few feet away.

Riley huffs but doesn’t answer as he keeps pushing at the picnic table with the stick. Tommy frowns, taking a few more steps forward and sitting down on the opposite side of the table. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a tin of Altoid Sours. He pops one in his mouth and then offers one to Riley. When the kid doesn’t immediately take one, Tommy rests the tin on the table between them.

“You know, I used to make a lot of really violent art,” Tommy states. “Still have some of it. Drawings of people getting stabbed, gunshot wounds.”

“Bet Miss Sidney would love to hear that right now,” Riley states sarcastically.

Tommy shrugs. “Probably not. But it was how I dealt. Especially with the people who hurt me when I was your age.” He flips his sketchbook back to the front before setting in front of Riley on the table. The first few pages have older, yellowed paper taped in. It’s been crumpled and some of it is shredded, but Riley looks up at it, skims over the images. He sets the stick down and flips a page over as something that looks suspiciously like comic paneling tells the story of a child and his abusive father. He watches the way Riley runs his fingers over the paper, touches the images.

“What do you know about abuse anyway, old man,” Riley murmurs softly, anger still present in his voice.

“More than you’d think, kid,” Tommy replies. When the teen looks up at him, Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I wasn’t always this built or lean. And me at thirteen, on the huskier side and gay? That didn’t go over all that well in my home.”

Riley doesn’t let on his emotional response to Tommy’s explanation, but he keeps flipping through the pages in the sketchbook. A drawing of a war zone. Drawings of mass military graves. Dog tags. Bloodied fists with colored pastels.

“Least you got out,” Riley comments after a few minutes of silence. “Had someone to help.”

Tommy gives a haughty laugh. “I went to the military to get out. I didn’t have anyone waiting at home if I made it back from Iraq. Everything I’ve done, I’ve had to do on my own.”

There’s still a scowl on Riley’s face, but the ire seems to sink out of it as he listens to Tommy.

“I was not cool when I came back, either,” he adds. “I was really shitty to people I now consider friends. Spent a lot of years alone because I couldn’t figure out how to just connect with people.”

“Least you found people who wanted you around,” Riley grumbles, his voice still soft, like he doesn’t actually want Tommy to hear him. “I got two years.”

Tommy sighs. He’s not sure whether saying something is a good idea. There are still too many what ifs and probabilities for him to be sure.

“You know, Evan and I have been talking to Miss Sidney,” he states in a quiet tone. Riley finally reaches out and takes one of the altoids, pops it into his mouth. His eyes slowly raise, though he doesn’t look directly at Tommy. “But we can’t do anything if you keep showing this kind of attitude in program. They won’t consider it a good placement.”

Riley’s brown eyes meet his then, his sandy blonde hair half hanging in them. He stares at Tommy with a bewildered expression.

“Hailey is-..”

Tommy shakes his head, cutting Riley off. Of course the kid would think they’d want a young child. “Hailey doesn’t fit in our home. She’s six. She needs a mom.”

“Dakota-“

“Doesn’t like fire trucks,” Tommy comments, in reference to another one of the younger kids.

Riley looks up at him, brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you two want a baby?”

Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Do you know how long the adoption process is for an infant? Never mind surrogacy.” He can’t help the warmth in his chest at the fact that for all of Riley’s questions, the idea of living in a house with two men in a committed (carnal) relationship isn’t one of them.

Riley is quiet again for a few moments as he closes Tommy’s sketchbook and places it back on the table.

“I age out in 798 days,” he mutters.

Tommy takes a breath and shrugs again. “Well. I guess that leaves us roughly twenty-two thousand more to have you around with us, five of take a few thousand,” he states. “You know, if you want to.”

Riley looks up at him through his eyelashes with an expression that’s trying suspiciously not to reflect any kind of hope. Tommy recognizes it from the one he had when he’d been told he was going back to live with his father at thirteen. He narrows his gaze slightly as he reaches out for his sketchbook.

“You know, Evan makes a mean shepherd’s pie,” he comments, sliding the book back over. “I could probably get him to whip one up tonight. He’s supposed to be off shift soon.”

“T-tonight,” Riley stammers.

“Only if you want to,” Tommy replies. “And if you apologize in front of Miss Sidney. I kinda promised her you’d be a good fit and you’re making me look bad right now.”

The slightest bit of an upturn happens at the corners of Riley’s mouth. Tommy nods, reaching out for the altoids tin. He closes it and pops it back in his pocket.

. . .

Hours later, in the silence of their home, Evan rests his chin on Tommy’s shoulder as they stand in the doorway of what they expect to become Riley’s bedroom. The teen is sprawled across the Queen-sized bed and a pillow that Tommy finds to be suspiciously similar to one from his and Evan’s bed is wrapped tightly in the teen’s arms.

“Dare I say, he’s a little attached to us,” Evan whispers to Tommy.

Tommy chuckles, pointing up to the T-shirts tacked up to a cork board on the wall. “That was his idea.”

Both shirts are worn and faded, one from the 118 and the other from Harbor. The vinyl is half-peeled from the shirts, and only the outline of Tommy’s last name remains on the shirt that belonged to him from how much use it’s seen.

“Who would’ve thought he’d like us that much,” Evan jokes. He tilts his head, resting his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I think he feels seen. Understood,” Tommy murmurs back. He takes a breath, looking down at Evan. “He asked if he could take both last names.”

Evan smiles wearily at Tommy. “He can have whatever he wants.”

Tommy lets out a soft chuckle, although he stiffens when Riley moves on the bed, only to settle a few seconds later with a contented sigh.

“And this is why you’re not in charge of the budget right now,” he comments. “He’ll have you talked into a car and three gaming systems in under twenty-four hours.”

Evan scowls at Tommy, turns his head and bites his shoulder. Tommy grunts softly, turning toward him. He pushes Evan gently out of the room, across the hall into their bedroom, easing the door shut quietly.

“Let’s not traumatize the kid on his first night home,” he states, framing Evan’s face with his hands before he dives in for a heated kiss. Evan moans softly into his mouth, fisting Tommy’s shirt.

“Well then, I guess you’re just gonna have to drown me out with the shower,” Evan replies, tugging Tommy back towards the en-suite.

And he does.

[reyadawn]

Magnetic

*image not mine, credit goes to Bryan/Jolly 😅*

Summary: Relationships of any kind can be filled with a multitude of emotions...especially when the lines of friends-with-benefits become blurred and they keep coming back for more than just physicality...

Pairings: Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x reader

Warnings: 🔞+, language, heavy smut (kissing, choking, hair pulling, degredation, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie)

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️

First Jolly fic so please bare with me and be kind 😅 Enjoy! 😉❤️

Inspired by Wage War's Magnetic. Have a listen below!

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Jolly absenmindedly plucked at the strings of his guitar, the irritation and frustration on his face shrouded by the black baseball cap he wore. Biting his lower lip, he closed his eyes momentarily as he tried picturing the notes and music in his head but those thoughts immediately shifted to her instead. Flashes of her dark auburn hair. Dark, illustrious eyes. Curves in all the right places.

Jolly's fingers slipped on one of the strings and he flinched at the off key sound. Sighing heavily, he set his guitar down, running his hands over his face, as he reclined back in his chair.

A hand on Jolly's shoulder temporarily broke through his frustration as he swiveled in his chair. Noah's dark features came into view, also partly consealed in a baseball cap.

"You alright, man?", Noah asked, brows furrowed in concern. Jolly shook his head but didn't respond. Noah sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's her...isn't it?".

"I can't get her out of my head. She's fucking with me even being able to record properly. I mean...I'm missing songs that I know like the back of my hand...I don't know what the hell it is", Jolly replied, voice laced with irritation. Noah blinked once before tipping his head back and erupting into a full belly laugh, the tattoos on his neck coming into full view.

"Are you fucking for real, bro?", Jolly barked, scowling at his best friend. Once Noah got control of his laughter he stood, clapping a hand on Jolly's shoulder again.

"It's called 'love' for a reason, dude. I've been fortunate to only experience it once or twice in my life and trust me when I say, it consumes you and you do everything you can to keep it", Noah said, smiling sadly. Jolly shot his best friend a questioning look but didn't pry.

A faint vibrating sound had Jolly fishing from inside the pocket of his sweat pants, pulling his cell phone free.

Hey, handsome 😘. I'm in town for a few days. Wanna' meet up for a drink at Roman's? 🥃

Her text stayed on his homescreen, unanswered as he stared at her cryptic message. They always did this. She would come into town, they'd hook up, she would leave, taking bits and pieces of his heart with her. He tried distancing himself and touring certainly helped but only marginally. He'd get lost in the absence of her presence and would end up begging her to fly out or partake in a filthy FaceTime session. It just seemed like no matter how far he ran, he kept coming back.

Sighing, his fingers typed back a single word reply:

When?

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Reader's POV

I ran my finger tips lightly around the rim of my glass, the amber liquid that filled the inside now almost empty. I wasn't a huge drinker but tonight I needed some liquid courage as I crossed my legs underneath the dark navy sundress I wore. I chose flats and a jean jacket but skipped out on the panties. There wouldn't be a need for them anyway.

I heard the door to Roman's jingle and my eyes immediately found Jolly's. He smiled and I swear to God, I died on the fucking spot, as I pressed my thighs together under the table. I drank in the sight of him as he walked over, cutting through a small crowd of patrons by the bar. Long hair pulled half up into a bun, the rest cascading over his shoulders. A pair of black sunglasses hung from the collar of the white t-shirt he wore, hidden behind a shiny leather jacket and his long legs were encased in dark jeans along with black biker boots. Holy fucking shit.

Jolly finally approached the table, sliding his chair around next to mine until they were touching before plopping himself down and pulling me into a hug.

"Hello, karaste", he whispered and I swear my ovaries liquified. After all this time, it never ceased to amaze me at how quickly my body responded to him. Over time our friendship developed into something much more physical and it was dangerous. I knew that. Jolly traveled and toured all the time as his success in Bad Omens continued to flourish. That meant very little physical ineraction and our main means of commumication was dirty text messages and FaceTime sessions when they could be squuezed in. However, there were times we craved each other so much that I'd hop on a plane and fly to where he was, even if it was only for a night.

There was just one major obstacle that I could not seem to overcome...in truth, I didn't want to.

I was in love with him.

"Where did you go, love?", Jolly asked, running his fingers through my hair to move a few strands behind my ear. My heart raced at his touch, the adrenaline and anticipation running through my veins causing my body to tremble. I turned to him, our lips mere inches apart before looking away, squeezing my eyes shut. "Look at me", he added. His domineering tone had me snapping my head back to him, my thighs pressing together again as a wave of slick slowly gathered around my throbbing clit.

Jolly's eyes dropped to my lap, gaze narrowing before meeting my eyes again. He licked his lips and I swallowed nervously. He leaned over slightly, looking at somewhere behind my left shoulder and suddenly grabbed my hand to pull me after him. Our chairs scrapped the hardwood as Jolly tossed a $20 dollar bill on the table, yanking me after him towards the back of the bar and into a corner so dark, you'd never even know a lonely couch was there unless you were looking for it.

Jolly suddenly turned, caging my head between his hands, crashing his lips to mine. My brain instantly melted, electricity sizzling all over my body as my hands came up to fist the material of his t-shirt, the warmth of his body seeping into my own. The smell of his cologne had my already melted brain practically boiling. Jolly's lips slanted over mine, deepening the kiss as his tongue licked inside. I whimpered, not that anyone could hear. Jolly boke the kiss to gently run his lips and teeth down the coloumn of my throat, his finger tips running gently between my thighs under my dress. No doubt he'd find them wet with the slick that was oozing out of my throbbing cunt, my body preparing myself for him.

Jolly's fingers reached my sodden folds, slowly swipping his fingers through them to gently and lightly rub over my swollen clit. My legs were shaking, my entire body trembling so bad, I was afraid I would fall. Jolly moaned into my neck, the vibration dancing over my skin as he continued to softly rub my clit. I was going to come. Hard. The time spent apart, the anticipation of seeing him, my body so overly stimulated was too much for me to hold in. Lifting a leg, I wrapped it around his own just for something to anchor myself to.

"Jolly...", I moaned, my grip on his t-shirt and leg tightening. Jolly's free hand left my waist to clamp over my mouth as my orgasm finally broke free. My eyes rolled back and I screamed into his palm, my voice muffled. Again, not that anyone could have heard me where we were. Too dark and most patrons were farther out from us.

Jolly removed his hand from my mouth, my chest heaving to catch my breath and I almost dropped to my knees at seeing him suck my juices off his fingers. He backed up then, sitting on the couch and undoing the zipper of his jeans to pull his hardened cock from it's confines. My mouth watered at how long and thick he was.

"Come here, karaste, and sit on my cock. I need to feel you", Jolly said, curling his fingers at me in a come-hither motion. My legs were jell-o as I did what he asked, climbing onto his lap, legs straddling either side of his hips. I tried gently sliding down over the head of his cock so my sensitive and still dripping cunt could adjust but Jolly wasn't having it. Placing both hands on my hips, he pulled me down as he thrust upwards, impaling me on his cock. I tipped my head back, mouth open, about to scream, when he covered my cries with his hand again. It was too much. Way too much. The stretch and burn, the fullness and thickness had me coming instantly.

"Oh, fuck, baby....you come already? How fucking desperate", Jolly said, chuckling darkly. I raised mysef up and down over his cock, my release no doubt dampening his boxers and jeans. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, my fingers grabbing locks of his hair to hold myself upright.

I moaned behind his palm as he continued to thrust up into my body. Jolly suddenly removed his hand to grasp my chin and pull my lips to his while my cunt continued to squeeze around him.

"Jolly, please...help me, pleasepleaseplease", I begged. His hands gripped my hips, almost lifting me off his lap as he shuttled his cock in and out of my pussy at a bruising pace. I was done for. I wouldn't survive the orgasm that getting ready to let loose. In. Out. In. Out. Up. Down. Up. Down. Until he suddenly impaled me down on his pulsing cock, releasing spurt after spurt of hot come into my womb. His release triggered my own. My mouth opened on a silent scream as I all but shook in his hold. My brain completely shut off, cunt clamping down on his cock.

"Fuck, I love you", I whispered, trying to catch what little oxygen I had left when I felt Jolly stiffen beneath me. I opened my eyes, looking down at him in shock at the words that I had been holding in for months slipped out.

Jolly's expression was unreadable. Realizing I overstepped and ruined whatever 'this' was, I tried to remove myself from his hold. He shocked me by grabbing my head between his hands to connect my lips to his.

"Jag älskar dig, karaste", Jolly said against my lips. Tears filled my vision and ran down my cheeks in hot rivulets. I didn't know much in Sweedish...but I did know that.

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Thank you for reading! 🥰

@concreteemo @concreteangel92 @lolitasangel @exitwoundsx @collidewiththesavannah @artificialstardust @amourtoken @alloraiona @bloodylullaby @bluestdai @darling-millicent-aubrey @doomhands-jr @iamamatus @kaliforniahigh @kissingrose @lilhobgobbler @lma1986 @like-a-omen @lovexsleepyhead @livingdeceasedgirl @philomenie @sacredthefran @thatchickwiththecamera @thisbicc @tikosblogg @xmads-omensx @yarasdead

[onlyswan]

summary: in which christmas is upon us and jungkook just wants to say that he loves you.

> fluff / wc: 3.4k

> warnings: poor baby is sick so he’s on vocal rest :( oc loves snow but is scared of slipping on it, a littleee suggestive with an allusion to a hard-on

note: just to be clear the bold texts are the lines jungkook says to you using his phone ^^ + the first scene is inspired by this ask !!! + i had a nap after my finals then started writing this lol my brain is still fried. happy holidays my dear friends <3 stay warm and healthy <3

—

jungkook plops down on the bed, about to slide his sweatshirt over his head until it gets forcefully ripped away from his hands. a yell of his dog’s name dies down on his tongue as bam’s fast paws slide all the way across the living room floor. releasing yet another crestfallen sigh, he follows after his stolen piece of clothing.

however, the path gets blocked by you, standing infront of him with a hand over your waist.

“and why are you walking around only wearing boxers?” you ask him quizzically, raising your eyebrows. “baby, please don’t get sicker than you already are.”

he pouts sadly, pointing at the couch where bam stands tall, his two-weeks-old sweatshirt hanging from the dog’s teeth.

“bam!” you turn to look at bam, and he tilts his head to the side innocently. “come here. give it back to your dad.”

jungkook scratches his head when bam drops the sweatshirt on the floor, stepping on it as he jumps off the couch to jog towards you. he can’t even point out the fact that it was just fresh from the laundry because he left the whiteboard in the kitchen and his phone is in the bedroom. oh my god, he can’t even complain about how much he fucking hates being on vocal rest.

well, he did try once this morning, using the whiteboard. with eleven exclamation points and the sad emoji drawn with extra details to be exact. okay, maybe twice. he erased the sad emoji to replace it with a crying one when you caught him making coffee, which the doctor told him he isn’t allowed to drink until his throat heals because it can dehydrate and irritate it. to be fair, having coffee every morning has been a part of his daily routine. he didn’t even realize he was making coffee until you started scolding him.

due to the cold weather and his intense recording sessions for the past week, he woke up with a sore throat and hoarse voice yesterday morning. aside from taking the prescribed medication, he was advised to go on a vocal rest, too. what makes it absolutely hellish for him? it’s not difficult to obey doctor’s orders. because it’s not like he could actually use his voice even if he wanted to. almost nothing comes out when he tries.

this gloomy situation reminded him why he religiously drinks vitamins and takes good care of his voice in the first place. it’s one thing to take a break from singing . . . but to completely abstain from talking? the last time he said ‘i love you’ was almost two days ago. he wants to curl up into a ball, cry, and scream.

and just like what he’s been doing since yesterday to express his misery, he sighs, lazily draping his arms around you. bam ends up lying down on the floor behind you when he realizes he won’t be getting any attention.

“oh, my poor baby. i love you.” you coo, tenderly rubbing his naked back, hoping it provides him a little more comfort and warmth. “you’ll be better in no time. just give your voice the rest it needs, hmm?”

you feel him nod against your shoulder. his embrace becomes tighter as he slumps, leaning more of his weight on you. you plant your feet firmly on the ground to prevent the two of you from falling, and you allow him to hold on to you for however long he needs.

“are you sure calvin klein hasn’t offered you guys a deal yet?”

and that’s when he pulls away. he stares at you for a second before shaking his head, fluffy hair bouncing as he does so.

“maybe it got lost in the mail?”

he shakes his head again, a bunny smile creeping on his face because of how adorably serious you’re being over such a random topic. how do you possibly miss a mail from the calvin klein? your teasing touch travels down to the curves of his waist, until your fingers trace the waistband of his boxers, sparking tingles in his abdomen and all the way down there. only then does he realize that he’s still half naked.

your nose scrunches as you smile innocently. what a minx. you never give his poor heart a rest. “then i guess you’re for my eyes only.”

body, heart, and soul— for your eyes only. but he wouldn’t say it even if he was able to speak because it sounds too cheesy outside of the song he hasn’t played you yet, so he kisses your cheek to say i am.

you pat his butt twice, urging him to head back to the bedroom. “go get dressed now, or i’ll change my mind and leave alone.”

he narrows his eyes at the sweatshirt left lying on the floor, and you click your tongue when the realization dawns on you.

“i’ll wash it later. it just had to be the white one, huh?”

—

“oh, baby, wait! forgot your scarf!” you rip your hand away from the doorknob, bolting back to the bedroom.

jungkook waits by the door, holding up his phone in landscape view, the words ‘but i don’t have a scarf?’ flashing on the screen. he only sees this at concerts, having done it himself before— a fan using their phone as a makeshift banner. and here he is, using it to his maximum advantage in his daily life.

“well, i do!” you enthusiastically respond to his message when you return, holding up the two scarves you managed to find in your cabinet. “pink with black checkered pattern or indigo? it’s shibori.”

he points at your right hand, and his heart flutters inside his ribcage when your face evidently lights up. you drape the pink scarf over his nape, wrapping the longer end twice around his neck to make it even with the other end. you take a quick step back to check him out, and it matches perfectly with his all-black outfit.

“nice and warm.” you say sweetly as you stroke his shiny hair.

he types on his phone before showing you the screen: ‘it’s so cold outside wear a scarf too :(’

you wear the indigo scarf without tying or wrapping it around your neck, leaving both ends draping down almost the same length as your jacket. this makes your boyfriend tut. he mimics your actions from earlier, making sure it’s warm but still breathable. you hide a pout. this scarf doesn’t match your outfit at all, but just like how you also ate soup for dinner last night so he wouldn’t feel sad and lonely about eating bland food, you do it anyway.

you look down when you feel a poking at your thigh. “oh. hi. be a good boy, bamie, okay? we’ll be back before dinnertime.”

despite the dirty white sweatshirt in the hamper, jungkook gives bam his good boy head pats before locking the front door.

—

you hum along to the christmas songs playing in the stores you pass by, restraining yourself from skipping along the pavement so you won’t slip on the unswept snow that fell almost the entire evening. jungkook is holding your hand firmly as you share a heating pad. his free one is tucked in the pocket of his padded jacket to shield it from the cold. you made sure that he was leaving the house as warm as possible, even stuffing earmuffs in your bag incase he starts complaining about freezing ears, too.

you pull back the khaki knitted bucket hat a little over your head so it won’t block your vision. he can’t see the rest of your face, but the way your eyes crinkle as your cheeks rise beneath the mask makes him copy your smile. you’re not usually happy with walking crowded streets, but the holidays seem to be an exception.

you always marvel at the giant christmas trees they display in the middle of the cities. you watch hanging christmas lanterns in awe, the swirling colors dancing in your dilated pupils. you gush about the christmas sales, and the discount bundles. you insisted on owning two christmas trees, green and white, to use them interchangeably. and by insisted he means you went home one november night hauling a giant box without him having a single clue what was inside . . . and he was afraid to find out.

you tend to decorate a little late because you’re both usually busy by the end of the year, but you leave it up until you’re reminded that valentine’s day is nearing.

this year, it’s the white tree’s time to shine again. it was jungkook’s idea to go with the theme of pantone’s color of the year, very peri, a shade of periwinkle. you already decorated it with a purple star on top and christmas balls all around, with light blue flowers and candy canes as the accent. now you’re on a hunt for lights to wrap around it, and hopefully also toss in some of those little gift box ornaments you just can’t seem to goddamn find online. (spoiler alert: you fail to find them in person too)

“ah! they have all the colors.” you giggle as you grab the first box of lights you saw, which is green.

jungkook is walking to the other end of the shelf as he inspects the boxes of lights he brushes past, until he finds something you’d definitely love. he takes out the first two boxes to grab the one behind them, because well, many other people most probably already touched those.

“baby, please help. should we get white? or green? or pink?” you ask without looking at him, squinting at the three boxes infront of you in serious contemplation.

he catches your attention by bumping his arm against yours, proudly presenting the item he found with the words ‘this one has a remote control with twelve colors ^_^’ flashing on his phone screen.

of course, it goes to say that you feel sad about your sweet boy having a sore throat, because this man’s life literally revolves around his voice. you were anxious about how you were going to comfort him when you found out that he needs to be on a vocal rest. but you didn’t expect that it would end up with you being hopelessly endeared by his written communication and cute little emoticons.

you beam at him excitedly, taking the box from his hands. “i like these round bulbs better. i didn’t think they’d have this type of st-”

you flip it over to check the price, and the amount of numbers comically make your shoulders drop. “aaand that’s also twelve times the price of the regula- jungkook!”

you yelp in surprise when he tightly wraps his arms around you from behind, whisking you away before you can convince yourself not to get it.

after the employee tested out if the product is working well, you finally made your peace with the price tag. you can choose the colors for the lighting modes and patterns? sick.

it doesn’t come as a surprise when you find long lines extending past the belt stanchions that separate the two counters. jungkook glues himself to your back again, resting his chin on your shoulder. the beeping of the barcode reader sounds too loud for him, and he wishes they would turn up the speakers so he can hear the jazzy christmas songs better.

he behaves for the most part, gently swaying you back and forth to the music. at some point, he almost falls asleep on your shoulder while resting his eyes. he regrets not wearing his glasses today. when he opens them again, you’re already fifth in line. jungkook estimates that a good 10% of your relationship is spent waiting on cash register lines, and it may sound tiresome if you put it that way, but oddly enough, he doesn’t hate it at all.

he pulls up the notes app in his phone, and you instantly look down at the screen knowing that he has something to say to you.

‘i’m thirsty :( my throat is getting dry again’

“aw, my love.” you coo at him sadly, rubbing his forearm. “want chamomile tea with honey again?”

you feel him bob his head, his cheek brushing against yours as he types his response. ‘yes. it magically makes me feel better ㅠㅠ but the pain still comes back ㅠㅠ’

“it’s gonna be fine. just let me take care of you, okay? drink your tea at the bakery we passed by, then let’s cuddle when we get home.”

jungkook briefly pulls down his mask to press an appreciative kiss on your temple, a small smile forming on his lips because you taking care of him makes him feel significantly less shitty. about generally everything, really. but you just get extra fussy over him when he’s in pain and he adores it.

your cheek kisses? addicting. asking him how he’s feeling every hour with your sweet, nurturing voice? brings him to tears. scolding him about being stubborn? makes him feel loved. religiously refilling the humidifiers? he must marry you. burning his midnight oatmeal because you had to help him look for his whiteboard marker? funny.

“oh wait, it’s already 4pm. so you should eat dinner and take your meds first before cuddles.”

the medicine makes him drowsy, and considering that he is already drowsy, he knows he’s going to pass out to sleep as soon as his body gets tangled with yours. having a sore throat fucking sucks, but he’s kind of excited to get his longest sleep of the year yet.

—

jungkook heads straight to the table beside the window, letting you order alone so he doesn’t get charmed by the wide array of christmas-themed desserts displayed by the counter. the seductive smell of sweets permeate through every corner of the room, and it’s more than enough to have him drooling, really. but if he eats sugar, his voice’s time in prison will be extended.

he takes off his jacket, scarf, and mask to enjoy some warmth without the heavy layers. while he waits for you, he distracts himself with checking his inbox. he giggles quietly as he scrolls through the conversation between his members that took place earlier this noon. he was taking a nap at that time, courtesy of the medicine he took after breakfast. however, his attention gets torn away from the phone when he hears a gasp from another table.

it’s snowing pretty heavily again, engulfing the vibrant street in thicker piles of pure white. winter can sure be a nuisance, but god, is it breathtakingly magical. it’s fascinating how ice falling from the sky can transform a daily scenery into a wonderland of unadulterated joy. to jungkook, the human’s ability to breathe life into earth’s many natural processes gives him the enthusiasm to live through another cycle of the four seasons.

“snow is so pretty.” you sigh dreamily as you sit down beside him, sinking on the (personally, too) soft couch. “here’s your tea, babe. be careful. it’s still hot.”

mesmerized by what he calls his magic potion, he carefully picks up the cup by its handle. as he blows on the piping hot beverage, his gaze falls upon the saucer infront of you. it’s a blue donut with a snowflake intricately drawn on it— too pretty, he would feel bad about eating it.

“stop watching me. i feel bad.” you whine halfway through your donut, wiping the corners of your lips with a tissue paper.

your boyfriend feigns innocence, making a confused face before taking another sip of his tea.

“what do you want for dinner?”

with that question, he goes back to scrolling through his phone to look for a restaurant. craving to feel his warmth, you hold his waist as you rest your cheek on his toned bicep, curiously watching him navigate the food delivery app.

he shows you the chicken noodle soup from the family restaurant you’ve ordered from several times in the past. “yeah, that should be fine. as long as the meat and veggies are soft. put it as a request in the notes.”

he does as you told, explaining that he’s sick so he can only eat easy-to-swallow food. before he can proceed to the payment, you sneakily tap the plus sign beside the quantity to make order two servings. he look at you in question, because you always prefer rice over noodles.

“i’ll eat it with you. i want something warm in my tummy.” you smile sweetly, gesturing at the snow-covered street to reiterate your point.

you finish the rest of your donut while singing along to jingle bell rock, thighs bouncing along to the beat. your boyfriend watches you in amusement, laughing to himself when you mumble gibberish then sing louder when you know the lyrics again. after sending in the order, he shows you that it should arrive at your doorstep by 6pm.

he picks up his cup to finish the rest of his tea. he takes a small sip to find that it’s already at the perfect temperature. “mhmmm, so good.” he moans, eyebrows knitting in sheer delight as the warm liquid soothes his sore throat.

“jungkook!”

oh shit. right. he has a sore throat. that hurt.

his hand flies to cover his mouth, ‘oops!’ written all over his face.

you release a sigh. it’s the first proper sound you hear from him since the other night, so you can’t say that you’re mad. “is the tea that good?”

he snaps a thumbs up with a wink to confirm that ‘it’s the best!’ as he usually says. you conclude that the tea here is better than what he has at home, and so, you decide to secretly go here early tomorrow morning. his throat hurts the most after sleeping, and you’re hoping it would help put him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

jungkook wears his jacket again, and then the pink scarf. as it’s snowing harder and it’s getting colder, you take this opportunity to put the earmuffs on him.

“so cute.” you mutter quietly, kissing his cheek because it’s impossible not to shower him with love when your heart is overflowing with it. you roll your eyes when your boyfriend leans closer to wordlessly ask for another. nevertheless, you cup his face with your warm hand, kissing the mole on top of his cheekbone.

jungkook opens the umbrella the moment you step out of the bakery, and the sound of chimes get muted when the door closes on its own. the green eco-bag where the christmas lights are in gently swings as you walk back to the car parked three blocks away. parking was full almost everywhere so you had no choice but to go with whichever empty spot you saw.

you make a noise of confusion when jungkook suddenly grabs your arm to stop you from walking. he dishes out the phone from his pocket and begins typing using only his thumb. you remain standing there, motionless, waiting for him to communicate.

he pushes back his earmuffs a bit before showing you the screen. ‘baby do you want a pasta maker?’

“why would i want a pasta ma- do you want a pasta maker?”

‘they’re on sale at the store we went to :D’

you fail to hold back a laugh when you realize that he’s probably been thinking about it since you were waiting in line back at the store. “want to go back and let me buy it for you?”

‘i love you <3’

you hide a stupid grin under your mask, shyly pushing down the screen to hide it. “yah, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk.”

jungkook only giggles, stubbornly raising the screen to show it to you once more. you pull him over to the side when you see a big group of people about to walk by, accidentally stepping on a pile of snow that makes you an inch taller.

“i love you more.” you brush off the snow that fell on his hair, and you share a sincere smile that can be recognized even only through the eyes. “you promise that you’ll use it more than once?”

he replies with a fervent nod. and it’s his eyes again . . . it’s always those wide eyes shimmering with love and optimism. they make you feel as though you are capable of moving mountains and parting oceans and turning dust into gold. and as long as it’s for jungkook, those might just be true.

“alright. let’s go then.” your boyfriend takes that as the green light to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he excitedly tugs you back to the opposite way.

“walk slowly! i’m scared of slipping!” you whine in panic as you and jungkook leave behind footprints on the snow, temporarily carving the memories of today into stone.

—

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[hopepetal]

My piece in the fourth edition of the @trafficzine! I wrote about Impulse's boogey kill on Pearl :)

(Spot the boatem knights au reference in the fic lol)

Read on AO3!

Enjoy! :)

--

The curse looms over Impulse like storm clouds over the sky, and he thirsts for time like grass for rain. He catches his breath as the curse settles on him, choosing him as the boogeyman. 

He releases the breath through his mouth, quietly forming the words “not the boogeyman” with his lips. It's not the truth, but it sounds enough like it for no one to suspect a thing. He's gotten good at lying, at deceiving and backstabbing, over the course of the life series. He and Skizz are different in that way. Where his friend remains honest and loyal, he weaves treachery and lies into his words. 

Impulse isn't strong enough to be honest. That, in his opinion, is one of his greatest flaws. He's too weak to hold any true loyalty to his team– he supposes that's why the thought of just killing one of them crosses his mind instantly. 

No, he rebukes instantly, if I kill too quickly, they might want to do a reroll. He thinks back to the first boogey, how Grian had claimed it wasn’t “entertaining enough”. How Skizz had died twice in quick succession, just because there hadn’t been enough suspense to make things interesting. 

Impulse joins the bad boys and Tango in teasing Grian– he’s well and fully asleep, passed out on the llama– and pretends that he isn’t thinking of killing every single one of them. He thirsts, thirsts for time in a way he knows is just beginning. It will get worse over time, so he’s been told, and that is not something he’s looking forward to.

They have a brief conversation about the bread bridge and gold. Jimmy’s upset with Joel, Joel is flusteredly trying to explain, and Impulse somehow manages to keep a pleasant smile on his face the whole time. He ignores how his fingers twitch, itching to grab onto his sword and swing it right into one of the bad boys' chests. 

Impulse and Tango manage to leave without spilling any blood, leaving the two bickering bad (bread) boys behind. The trek back to their base is mostly silent– Impulse is trapped in his thoughts for the most of it. He wonders once more if he should just get an easy kill on his teammates, or if he should tell them about him being the boogey. 

He almost does tell them. Instead, he innocently asks “anyone the boogey?” and feigns ignorance and joy when they all confirm that they aren’t. He supposes that’s one good thing about being the boogey; he doesn’t have to spend the entire session worrying about whether someone was lying to him or not, watching his back and fearing for his life.

Everything continues as normal. Skizz pulls Tango aside to talk while Etho begins placing red concrete in the water, watching it harden before mining it. And oh, it would be so easy to kill them– they’re not even looking! Their backs are turned! None of them even have their weapons drawn, so lulled into a false sense of security that–

No.

No.

He can’t do this. Not again. He won’t betray his teammates. He’ll just have to find someone better to kill.

There’s Scar, running over the hill and pulling Skizz aside. Impulse draws his sword but the other is too quick to disappear around the tower with Skizz in tow, claiming that it’s a “private meeting.” Impulse looks between Tango and Etho with a nervous chuckle that has no actual anxiety behind it. He knows Skizz is safe. Scar is green, after all, and the only one who could really put Skizz in any danger is Impulse himself. 

“Scar could be the boogey for all we know,” he points out, the smile on his face a contrast to the more serious words he’s saying, “are we sure we want to leave them alone?”

They leave Skizz alone with Scar anyway. If he was in any real danger, they’d get him out of there. There’s a team meeting (“Three quarters of a team meeting!” Tango jokes) and they begin to discuss skynet. Impulse makes his worry over falling off quite clear, and suggests that he goes and grabs some ender pearls. 

He does exactly that– the monotony of mining and healing and trading does enough to take his mind off of the ever growing thirst in the back of his throat. His communicator buzzes in his back pocket when he finishes up, Tango sending an excited response when the notification goes out. The communicator buzzes again as he begins to trade, and he wonders why in the void’s name did anyone ever think that achievements were a good idea. He gets what he needs, though, clutching eleven ender pearls in hand before returning to the surface.

And– oh boy, there’s Bdubs and Scar on the opposite bank, yelling about something incomprehensible. Things usually are that way, with the clockers. Cockers? Whatever they were calling themselves. Upon noticing Impulse, they wade through the water to join him, bringing their dogs with them.

“How are you, Impulse?” Scar asks in his pleasant voice, a smile on his lips as Bdubs helps him out of the water while rambling about something “blasting him all over the place”. 

“I’m doing great, how are you–” Impulse begins, but is interrupted by Tango falling from the sky and crashing into the water with a demonic sort of squawking. 

Bdubs is unphased by this, shouting out an excited “hi, Tango! That was cool!”

Tango clambers out of the water and immediately is staring at the small puppy shaking water out of its fur. “That dog’s head is way too big for its body,” he points out, and Bdubs shrugs and says something about the cuteness factor.

Impulse pulls out the ender pearls stashed away in his inventory. “Since you guys are friends…” He hands one to Bdubs before throwing one to Scar. “...do you want one of these?”

Bdubs’ eyes widen, and he takes his pearl with a grin. “Stasis chamber?” he asks enthusiastically, and Impulse smirks.

“You never know,” he says with a shrug, before turning and handing a pearl to Tango. 

He takes out some of the building bloodlust on the zombies that spawned in the tower (flamboyant, Bdubs calls it, to which Tango exclaims disbelievingly through laughter that it’s stone, one of the most basic building blocks). Impulse makes some joke about how Tango and Etho are competing for best accidental mob farm, and tries to hide how he relishes in the zombies’ demise. 

Monotonous work seems to help keep the murderous urges at bay, so Impulse volunteers to help Tango with the bubble elevator. Tango’s busy explaining to him what the plan is when Skizz drops into the water from above, splashing them both and spooking Tango. “Guy knows how to make an entrance!” Tango yelps, to Impulse and Skizz’s laughter.

“I hate to interrupt, but…!” Skizz makes his way over to Impulse, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Impulse! Do you have any ender pearls, buddy?”

“Oh yeah!” Impulse replies easily, and hands Skizz two ender pearls– the yellow name would need them. 

…not like they help much anyway, because not that much long later, Skizz falls off a ladder and dies. Again. There’s a brief discussion with Tango– how did it happen? Why did he die?– and then Skizz returns, yelling about how he doesn’t even know what happened. 

“Are you the boogey?!” he asks Impulse as they’re climbing back up the tower, and it takes everything Impulse has to keep moving up that ladder, to not freeze at the realization that Skizz thinks he did that on purpose. And, if he had, if he claimed it as a boogey kill– it would count! He could take this and the curse would break and…

No. He wouldn’t.

“I didn’t boogeyman you!” he insists over Skizz’s shouted accusations, “you fell on your own accord! Don’t you be blamin’ the boogey!”

“I’m gonna blame somebody!” Skizz spits, pulling himself up off the ladder. “What happened?! Why is this hole here?!” 

“It’s under construction–!” Impulse splutters– “I tried to tell you that!”

Skizz keeps yelling, and Tango’s laughter echoes from above. “Oh, I love the bickering,” he wheezes, and Impulse shoots him a glare. “Sorry, sorry, not helping.”

“I lost another hour, man!” Skizz cries. “I keep dying so much!”

Impulse gives him a weak smile, chuckling softly. “Okay, okay, but let’s talk. That was my fault, right? Because I’m the one that put the hole there?”

Skizz shakes his head instantly, dismissing Impulse’s concerns. “Nah, dude. Not at all. Of course it’s not your fault!” 

Impulse frowns, tilting his head slightly to the side. “But you just said it was,” he points out, and Skizz winces.

“Ehhh, heat of the moment sort of thing. Ya know?” 

Impulse laughs. “So if I happened to be boogey…” he trails off for a moment, testing the waters, before continuing. “...would that have counted?”

Something registers in Skizz’s brain, and he looks right into Impulse’s eyes. “I would’ve counted it. I really would’ve.” It’s an offer, almost. Skizz is giving him a way out of this. A way that Impulse has decided already not to take, but a way out nonetheless. “Are you the boogey, then?” Another offer. This time, it’s a chance to come clean and be honest with his teammates. 

Impulse hardly doubts that Skizz knows he’s boogey. They’ve been friends for decades now, and Skizz knows Impulse better than anyone else ever could. It’s part of the reason why Impulse is so glad Skizz is on his team and not an enemy; Skizz would be able to see right through him were he to lie or try and deceive anyone. 

“No,” Impulse practically breathes out, and tries not to wince when he sees the disappointment shine so briefly in Skizz’s eyes. “If I was boogey, I wouldn’t be going after you guys.” Relief swells in his chest when he sees Skizz relax and give him a slight smile. At least Skizz knows he can trust Impulse– the nice thing about knowing when someone is lying is that you know when they’re telling the truth as well. 

“I know,” Skizz tells Impulse, before weaving a little lie of his own. “I didn’t think you were boogey!”

Your ‘secret’ is safe. For now. 

They’re immediately distracted by Tango’s noisy complaints about how he built something wrong, his distressed sounds making Skizz laugh. Impulse joins in as Tango laments his mistake with a long, drawn out wail. Skizz’s laughter is infectious, and they quickly begin to tease Tango over the error. For the moment, things are fine, and Impulse almost forgets that he’s cursed. Doomed to either kill or die. 

Well, he’s doomed to die no matter what he does, but the game is all about delaying the inevitable.

When Skizz is gone, Impulse whispers the truth to Tango. He’s the boogey, and Tango laughs a little nervously at that before muttering that he’d figured, that question earlier had tipped him off. They joke about it for a moment before Tango confesses that he’s actually really nervous and Impulse is quick to reassure him that he has no plans of targeting team T.I.E.S. Tango nods, lowering his shield, and begins to figure out a plan. It ends up being quite simple– get TNT from Etho, then drop it from the sky and kill someone. 

They end up meeting Skizz on Skynet, high above the ground with a drop that would spell death for anyone unfortunate enough to fall. It’s dizzying, looking down at the ground, players like ants below them. So small. So fragile. 

Impulse wants to kill. 

“Why don’t you just do it?” he asks Skizz, voice quivering with barely held back excitement when his friend says he wants to blow someone up. Adrenaline is coursing through his veins, his blood turned to fire from the curse’s rage. 

Skizz can’t kill any yellows– that’s fine. Impulse will do it himself.

He lights the first block of TNT and watches it fall.

“...are you boogey, dude?”

Impulse is silent.

“You’re boogey.” 

“You knew that,” Impulse murmurs, and Tango and Skizz erupt into laughter.

“You are!” Skizz crows triumphantly, and Impulse can’t help but grin, expression turned maniac from the bloodlust. 

His eyes shine red.

The want becomes a need. 

“You’ll help me, right?” Impulse breathlessly asks his teammates, ignoring how his hands won’t stop trembling as he peers over the edge, gazing down at the drop that would sate his thirst, that would give him what he needs. All he has to do…

Skizz smiles, and he would’ve wrapped an arm around Impulse’s shoulders were they not in constant danger of falling to their deaths. “‘course, dippledop. What are friends for, if not to help a guy kill someone?”

…is kill. 

“Who do you want to kill?” Skizz asks, and Impulse considers his options. They’re allied with the clockers, and team T.I.E.S stays true to their allies. 

The bad boys, however…

“How about Joel?”

It’s perfect. He’s right beneath them, too caught up in his own duty of protecting Grian to pay attention to the sky. Impulse can hear his own heart beating, can feel the sweat dripping down his neck, can taste the blood as he bites down too hard on his cheek, can–

Footsteps that don’t belong to any member of T.I.E.S are picked up by ears far more sensitive than anyone else’s, and Impulse looks up to see Pearl running over Skynet with her diamond hoe in hand. “Pearl’s coming,” he warns, “Etho’s behind her.”

Now this…

This is his target.

It’s not every day the universe presents him with the perfect opportunity and means for revenge.

(Deep down, Impulse doesn’t really blame her for what happened in Double Life. But the boogey curse changes a person down to their very core, at least until they kill.)

“Let me shoot her,” Skizz whispers, and Impulse has to bite back a cry of frustration when he shoots. He misses, thankfully. Impulse has to do it, has to be the one to kill her. Otherwise, and this he realizes with growing certainty, he’s going to die. And soon. 

Pearl yelps as the arrow flies by her, wings fluttering behind her as she comes to a halt a few feet in front of them. “What’s going on here?” she demands, smiling, not taking her near death seriously whatsoever. 

“It’s not safe here,” Impulse tells her, and he knows the softness in his voice is only because of the bond they shared in their home server, only because he still considers her family. 

Family is not enough, and Impulse realizes this as bloodlust washes over him once more, the curse reaching its peak. He carefully steps forward, keeping an expression of concern on his face. Tango realizes what he’s doing and gives him the space to move around so that he’s face to face with Pearl. She still suspects nothing, her words lighthearted and posture relaxed as she banters with Tango and Skizz. 

It’s perfect.

Impulse takes the ground out from under her feet, and Pearl falls.

Maniacal laughter erupts from him as he watches her fall, listens to her rapidly fading scream of terror, and finally sees her die. “Boogey!” he cries, to the laughter and cheers of his teammates. “Done!” 

The curse recedes, Impulse taking a shaking breath as a weight is lifted off his shoulders. His hands still shake slightly as he continues to laugh, more out of relief now than from excitement and glee.

And Impulse…

Impulse killed Pearl. 

Maybe, in a world different from this one, he would've seen her fall and know she'd be caught on wings as strong as their owner's love for her. But not this time. Not in this world. 

As he drinks in the time– Pearl's time, ripped from her dead hands, quenching his thirst and soothing his parched throat– the vice grip of the curse over his heart fully lifts, and Impulse realizes what he's done. 

It's a necessary evil, he knows, and Pearl will forgive him eventually. She always does. But as he thinks back to the kill, back to Pearl's scream and broken, useless wings spreading in an attempt to catch her fall, Impulse feels... more than a little guilty. 

He doesn’t have time for guilt.

“Ohhh…” he breathes out, leaning against Skizz, “oh, that– I feel so much better. That feels so much better.”

Skizz helps support him, keeping him steady. “You all good, dippledop? Is the curse gone?”

Tango and Etho step closer as Impulse nods. Now that the bloodlust and adrenaline have faded away, Impulse feels tired, exhaustion settling in fast. “We’re all good,” he gets out, smiling weakly. “Though I think I’ve made a new enemy today.”

Tango waves him off with a grin. “Hey, whatever happens, team T.I.E.S will have your back.”

Skizz lets out a cheer, Etho nodding along to Tango’s words. “Yeah, man. Don’t worry about it. You just did what you had to do. No harm in that,” the masked man points out, and Impulse finally relents.

“All right, all right. Let’s get down from here, though– I still don’t trust myself up here.” 

Later, Impulse will apologize to Pearl and say that it wasn’t really him. It was the crazed boogeyman version of himself, his mind driven mad by the ever growing bloodlust and need to kill. He won’t truly mean it, and she won’t ever accept his excuse for an apology. 

In the end, that’s not what matters. The betrayal, the lies, the deceit and the fake apologies– none of it will matter at all. In the end, they will both fall. Nothing they do can stop the ever flowing river of time.

Time keeps ticking. Sand continues to fall through the hourglasses that measure their lives.

Impulse lives today, but tomorrow he will die.

[vxntagedior]

brown butter cookies

summary | baking started to become bradley's coping mechanism after the uranium mission

pairing | bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warning | angst, fluff, mentions of the mission, PTSD

word count | 1.0k

Bradley could have died that day and he still couldn’t comprehend that. Flying back to San Diego, Bradley couldn’t talk to anyone, not even Maverick. All he had thought about when his plane was going down was you. 

He didn’t have many memories of his dad but the most vivid ones were when officers had come to their house, telling his mom about the news and next his dad’s funeral, remembering how Maverick had presented the folded flag to him. 

Since that, he didn’t want that to happen to you, he didn’t want you to feel the way his mother did when his dad died, how she barely went out some days, the light leaving her body. 

You were waiting at the base when they came back, you and Penny waiting in the parking lot. Seeing the squad make their way out, Maverick already running towards Penny, you saw Bradley slugging himself behind Mav. 

Scared out of your mind, you ran towards your husband, happy that he was back home but wondering where the damage was done. 

“B.” You whispered, cupping his cheeks. Sniffling, Bradley started to cry, wrapping his arms around you, pushing his face further and further into your neck. Your eyes were wide, Bradley had never been like this after any mission, you stayed quiet, hugging him tightly. 

“C’mon let’s go home.” That seemed to get him out of your touch, wiping away his tears, letting you guide him to the bronco. Sitting in the driver's seat, you looked over at Bradley who just broke down into tears. 

“Bradley!” You called out, seeing his chest heaving, seeing that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. “B, can you hear me.”

“I almost died.” He choked out, turning his head towards you, “I almost died and all I thought about was you being alone.”

You couldn’t help but tear up, that was always your biggest fear, hearing that Bradley never back from a mission. Leaning over the console, you wiped away his tears, kissing him softly. Bradley cried softly, resting your forehead against his. 

Driving home, you held onto his hand the entire time pulling into the driveway, Bradley let out a shuddering sigh. 

The navy had given the team 2 weeks off, and gave you the number of the therapist on base. The two of you talked it over and agreed on going twice a week.

Soon the mission had been 2 months ago, the dagger squad now staying at TOP GUN. 

One thing he learned at therapy was finding an activity outside of his job. Bradley tried sports, volunteering, and soon found out it was baking. 

Carole had always made the best cookies when he was little, and passed down the recipe to him before she passed, something he just kept in one of her boxes. 

Coming home from work, it was warm inside the house, warmer than usual and smelt amazon. 

“B, what are you making? It smells wonderful.” You gushed walking into the kitchen, “Oh my!”

Cookies were everywhere, on every counter space that was available. Bradley was standing over the sink, the hand mixer on, not hearing you come in. 

“Hey.” He smiled, seeing you walking. Letting out a snort, you saw the apron that was yours around him, covered in flour and sugar. “I made cookies.”

“For the squad.” You probably had to guess there were at least 5 dozen cookies cooling down. 

“Why?” You asked, grabbing one off the cooling rack, “These are so good!”

“My therapist said that I should find an activity or a hobby.” He shrugged. Bradley never talked to you about his sessions, not that he had too but it seemed like it was making progress because you hadn’t seen him so calm and happy since the mission. 

“And their brown butter cookies, some with chocolate chips and with a little salt on top.” He answered. “It was my mom's recipe, I found them in her boxes and I made a batch and then ended up spending the rest of the afternoon making them.”

“I didn’t know you were such a good baker.” You smiled, taking another cookie. “You should make brownies next.”

Coming into work the next few days, Bradley came with boxes and boxes full of cookies giving them to the squad, letting them just assume that it was you who were making them. He didn’t really talk about his PTSD he still had, the nightmares, staying up all night because he’s scared that if he’d go to sleep he wouldn’t wake up. 

Maverick was probably the closest to know what was happening with Bradley, somewhat in the same position as him, his near death experience, but wasn’t his first nor will it be his last. 

“It tastes exactly like your moms.” Maverick commented as they started fixing up one of the F-14s. Bradley let out a small smile, happy that he remembered and that the two of them started to mend their relationship.

“It feels nice.” Bradley hummed, “Makes me forget about everything, and now Y/n wants me to make more desserts now.”

“You're gonna be a PTA dad in the future.” Maverick snorted, “Bringing treats for all the parties.”

“Shut up!” He huffed. 

-

“Try.” He offered you a piece, soon enough, baking became a normal thing for Bradley now, making something new every couple of days. “Hangman’s mom sent me her recipe for lemon bars.”

“Hangman's mom.” You were amused, “Since when did you talk to her?”

“You don’t need to know who I talk to.” He said playfully. “And anyways, Hangman gave her number, apparently he heard about my new found talent and wanted some.”

“You might need to start charging now, this is turning into a side business.” You took another bite of the bar, “I think you were a baker in your past life.”

“Hey, if being an aviator ever comes to an end, I’ll own a bakery.” He smiled, slightly liking the idea. 

“Gonna name it after me?” You let out a breathy laugh. 

“Name it after my girls.” He said adamantly, “You and my mom.”

fin.

[all-pacas]

DIAGNOSTIC OLYMPICS, SEASON 1, EPISODES 1-5

Hi! I was curious about who on House (besides House) gets the most diagnoses right. Other folks have already run a tally (it's Chase), but I was curious how other factors would influence the tally — whose ideas get run with, who manages treatment, who screws up… So I thought I'd keep score.

1 point for getting the answer. This is almost always going to be House.

.5 points for Valuable Contribution — stuff that isn't the final answer, but either is thought to be the final answer or is valuable to the solving of the case. Stuff like "noticing something on the MRI" doesn't count; things like "figuring out how to treat" does.

-.5 to -1 for Mistakes — stuff that delays or prevents diagnoses, injuring or killing patients, etc.

PILOT

DIAGNOSES: Ham Worms

+1: HOUSE. Final diagnosis and most ideas. +.5: CHASE: Comes up with a way to prove the diagnoses and convince the patient to treat.

PATERNITY

DIAGNOSES: Brain Measles

+1: HOUSE. Final diagnosis. +.5: FOREMAN. Is the one to figure out how to treat the patient, twice, House deferring to him entirely with treating the measles. +0: CAMERON. Comes up with neurosyphilis, which is the only non-House diagnoses to get tested/treated (+.5). But also took a really bad history of the patient, missing that he was adopted and more significantly that he'd had recent head trauma. (-.5) BONUS POINTS: +5 to Chase for sheer asskissing. Sucks up to House in the differential (1), guesses what House wants to hear while looking at MRI results and guesses correctly based on House's response (2 and 3), later reads House again and decides there's a third option for treatment because House does (4), and lastly is the only one of the named cast who didn't bet against House on the patient's paternity. (5).

OCCAM'S RAZOR

DIAGNOSES: Pharmacy Error; gout medication.

+1 House, as ever in these early episodes. +.5 Foreman, impresses House and his idea is taken as correct in the differential. Also takes charge of Cameron and Chase and gets them to pull all-nighters doing testing. Leadership!

MATERNITY

DIAGNOSES: Echovirus.

+1 Team: there is no one eureka moment by one person, so everyone gets the win here. Individual merits: +.5 Chase: I'm giving him an extra half point: he suggests virus first, even if it's initially knocked down, and his suggestion of VSRA ends up being partially correct. He also spends most of the episode in NICU acting as the primary physician and keeping the babies alive. +.5 Foreman: Suggests Echovirus in the final brainstorming session. Doesn't count as a full point because it was brainstorming and not his only suggestion, but he still nailed it. -1 Cameron: Not a good episode for her. Fails to communicate with the parents, then fails to accurately explain the risks of treatment later. When their son dies, she also is unable to break the news, and tries to get Chase to do it (Wilson eventually does). Kind of a bad look. -1 Cuddy: She's scouring the hospital for sources of the illness, and misses the openly coughing and sick old lady handing out stuffed animals? I'd give her a pass if she wasn't actively looking for just that.

DAMNED IF YOU DO

DIAGNOSES: Copper allergy.

+.5 House: There's really not a lot of diagnosing in this episode: the nun is suffering an allergy, and House gets it in the first minute of the episode. I'm deducting points because I think this episode actually shows a downside to House's way of diagnosing: when she has unrelated symptoms, he immediately abandons allergy and jumps to what rare illness is it instead of trying to figure out other causes. He saw a zebra, not a horse. +.5 Cameron: She also suggests an allergy right away, although it's shot down and House calls her out later for not sticking her guns. RAT COUNT: Foreman is the first of the series, running to Cuddy and getting House kicked off the case because he disagrees with the diagnoses.

SOCRATIC METHOD

DIAGNOSES: Wilson's Disease

+1 Cameron: First non-House diagnoses, and it's Cameron suggesting Wilson's disease at the final differential! +.5 House: Unusually nice this episode, and he's the one who both took an interest in the patient and realized her psychosis was a symptom and not a diagnoses. +0 Chase: doesn't let it get in the way, but his insistence/dismissal of the patient as an alcoholic means he's pretty useless this episode. Doesn't screw anything up, but no points either. -.5 Foreman: Loses his temper with the patient and sedates her against House's direct orders, also affecting her mental state/clarity and ability to communicate. House lectures him, and if House thinks it's a screw up, who am I to argue?

Running tally:

HOUSE: 4 TEAM: 1 FOREMAN: 1 CHASE: 1 CAMERON: .5 CUDDY: -1

[blackdiamond1038]

Secret Life Secrets

Session 7

Red- Failed

Green- Successful

All players who are infected have their task changed, so instead of having the same task at the end of almost everyone’s task, it will just be [infected]. This means their task then changes to Gem’s, which is stated below.

Gem: You are infected with the boogeyman curse. You must kill a non-red to infect them. Once you have infected them, show them this book. Their task (if they have one) is replaced with this. Yellows cannot call out this task, and you cannot re-roll for hard. You succeed when all non-reds have the curse during the session. All infected players can work together. Anyone infected can kill a non-red, but the most recently infected player must be involved. If you turn red, you can choose to be free from the curse by hitting fail early.

Scott: You must ask other players what you can do for them in exchange for diamonds. They set the amount and the task. You succeed when you have made a total of 10 diamonds from at least 3 other players. You must accept their first offer of  diamonds, and cannot convince them to give you more.

Grian: The next mob (aggressive or neutral) is now your pet. You must properly  take care of it by feeding it and taking it for walks. You fail if it dies or yellow calls out your tasks.

Pearl: You must actively break the fourth wall during conversations. You must turn to the camera and provide your inner monologue to the audience and return to the conversation without missing a beat. You can mute to break the fourth wall. You pass if no one has called you out by break time. You must actively participate in conversations. [infected]

Joel: Whenever you talk to another player you must be at least one block higher than them, even if you place the block yourself. You fail if you speak to someone while on the same level or lower. You pass if you successfully do this all session. [infected]

Etho: You are ZombieCleo’s Devil on their shoulder. You have to convince them to do bad and harm others. ZombieCleo has to choose one to act on. You can tell them about this task, but no one else. [infected]

Skizz: You are ZombieCleo’s Angel on their shoulder. You have to convince them to do good and not listen to the devil on their shoulder. ZombieCleo has to choose one to act on. You can tell them about this, but no one else. You pass if you have convinced them to take your advice more than the devil by the end of the session. [infected]

Cleo: Skizzleman and Etho are the angel and devil on your shoulder. You must pretend that you do not know when they tell you their tasks. You must alternate between taking the angel and the devil’s influence on decisions without them getting suspicious. [infected? idk it was messy but they didn’t press the succeed or fail button]

Tango: At the start of the session, announce in chat that you are a Genie and can grant 3 wishes. Only one wish per player. You succeed if you grant 3 wishes, however, you must get some part of the wish wrong (how much wrong is up to you). [infected]

Scar: Become the villain of the server. Grief. Steal. Seek server world domination. You pass if you are actively disliked by the majority of the other players. [infected]

Impulse: Pretend to be the “Boogeyman.” Fake swing at people, place lava behind them with no intention of causing damage, etc. If at least 3 people accuse you of being the boogeyman, you pass. [infected]

BigB: Make everyone believe you failed your task, but when you are asked what is was, you must make up something. You cannot use the same fake task twice. You fail if you are called out and pass if you successfully tell each player a fake task. [infected]

Bdubs: Everytime someone asks you to do something, you have to repeat back what they said in a high-pitched, sassy voice. You pass if you are not called out by a yellow half way through the session. [infected]

Martyn: Task 1: Punch another player into lava. It can be lava you have placed. Task 2: Cause any amount of damage to a non-red using an anvil. Task 3: Summon a mob using an egg to deal any damage to any green. Task 4: Strike a deal with a non-red to cause at least 3 hearts of damage to another non-red. You succeed when they have dealt the damage. Task 5: Mine a big hole underground then spleef a player into taking damage into it. [Unfinished this session]

I’m pretty confident no one succeeded before being infected, but I could be wrong. I also know that not everyone presses the fail button who was infected, but they all technically failed. Idk, this session was a nightmare for me.

On a different note, Jimmy’s whole canary curse with everything exploding after he dies is still very much working. He may not have died first, but his death was still a symbol for chaos to come.

lemme know if something’s messed up!

[neewtmas]

Nightmares // Part II

A/N: this was so hard to write omg I struggled so bad with writer's block. I hated it pretty much all throughout the writing process, but now I think it might be not as bad as I thought. I hope everyone likes it! thanks to the anon for the request &lt;3

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 4k

request: hey bae, love your work i was wondering if i could request a pasty two to nightmares pretty please <333 maybe where reader starts going to hunt ghosts cause she’s fully trained and george just freaking out all the time !!! thanks so much - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break

part I masterlist

"I want to become an agent."

The conversation around the dinner table died down immediately, and Lockwood, George and Lucy simultaneously turned to you.

"What?"

"I said, I want to become an agent", you repeated firmly, "I want you to train me so I can join you in the field."

"Y/N, I don't think that is a good -", George started, but Lockwood interrupted him immediately. "No, it's a great idea! We do need reinforcement. I thought about hiring another agent, but training you - that would be much easier."

George huffed, and you felt a pang in your chest. Did he think you weren't good enough? You thought back to a few days ago - when you spent the night in his bed, wrapped in his arms. Were you wrong to interpret this the way you did?

"George, she'll do just fine", Lucy said, and he sighed. "I don't doubt that, I just - I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N." His eyes met yours, and for a second you forgot how to breathe. The way he looked at you had your heart beating faster, and you reached over the table to where his hand laid on the wood. But in the last moment, your courage left you and so your hand came to rest right next to his, fingers almost touching.

"I know, but I just want to be able to defend myself. And I don't want a repeat of…", you trailed off, but the unsaid words hung heavy in the air. You and George hadn't talked about what exactly had happened that night, and your nightmares had mostly subsided, but you hadn't forgotten how you felt when you thought he was in danger. Lucy cleared her throat. "You know we're still here, right?" Your face flushed red and you pulled your hand off the table with lightning speed. "I just want to be more than a measly assistant. I have the talent, and I'm willing to train and do everything you ask of me."

Lockwood nodded, satisfied. "I'll write you a training plan. The only thing you need to learn is how to use a rapier. You've handled enough of our equipment to be sufficiently educated on that front, everything else you'll learn in the field."

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The plan Lockwood had cooked up included daily training, rotating through all other members as training partners at least twice a week. That worked out for about three weeks, and then slowly but surely, George took over all your training sessions. You and Lucy always ended up joking around too much and your sessions mostly ended with you both lying on the floor together, talking about everything and nothing. The second time Lockwood had caught you on the floor, giggling to each other with your rapiers discarded in the corner, he had banned Lucy from teaching you. Training with Lockwood was usually more successful, but after a few weeks, he started ditching you so George had to pick up those sessions as well. You had a sneaking suspicion that this was Lucy's doing. Not that it was an issue in any way, on the contrary, you were more than happy to spend time with George.

After the one night you had spent in his bed, you hadn't dared to go back even though you still had nightmares now and then - not because you didn't want to, but because the whole situation was so confusing. Now more than ever, you were sure there was something between you, but you didn't know what it was and whether George felt the same. If you were honest with yourself and looked at everything without your rose-coloured glasses, his actions - no matter how fluttery they made you feel - could be categorized as purely friendly and platonic. Your feelings on the other hand were anything but platonic, but you weren't about to embarrass yourself by misreading any signals. Instead, you told yourself you were just fine with him being nothing more than your friend and training partner.

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“Are you ready?” George asked and offered you one of the practice rapiers from the stack in the corner. You nodded, taking it from him and wrapping your fingers around the cool metal of the handle. Since starting your training, you’d quickly become more proficient with the rapier and the way you managed to inflict some serious damage on Joe and Esmeralda was a far cry from the awkward stumbling around George had to watch in the beginning.

“We’re going to focus on your footwork today. You’re already doing well with your grip and upper body, but a good and light stance is equally important and you tend to be a little stiff.”

You blushed at his compliment and simultaneous critique and quickly moved into the middle of the room, getting into the standard position Lockwood had taught you in your very first lesson.

George followed you and mimicked your stance. You were acutely aware of how little distance was between you, even though the entire room was empty and George really didn’t have to stand that close. “Right. So this is your standard starting position. But, in an actual combat situation, your opponent, be it human or ghost, usually won’t be courteous enough to let you set up your ideal position first. You need to be able to apply all the maneuvres you learnt even if you don’t have a perfectly flat surface and time for preparation.”

You tried to listen closely as he elaborated on different techniques, but it didn’t take very long for your eyes to wander. You took in all the small details on his face, every single freckle, the way his dark lashes slightly curled upwards - “Are you listening to me?”

His gaze caught yours and you stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed and taken by surprise. “What?”

“I’m asking if you’re listening to me, Y/N” he repeated and you nodded quickly, hoping the dim light of the basement would conceal the blush burning on your cheeks. He looked at you for a moment, and you almost squirmed under how intense his gaze felt. The tension between you was palpable, but then he broke eye contact and resumed his explanations.

All of the training sessions went something like this. George would explain something and, at some point, drift off into a tangent that you gladly listened to - though it was more looking than listening if you were honest.

But sometimes, he would also explain certain moves more hands-on, and that's when you were really in trouble. Him standing close to you was one thing, but him adjusting your grip with his hands on yours, or worse, him reaching around you to demonstrate the way the rapier was supposed to move was an entirely different thing. Feeling him pressed up against your back, with his arms around you and his hands on yours had your heart beating out of your chest and made it hard to focus on anything else. When he stepped back and waited for you to perform the moves he just showed you by yourself, more often than not you were far too flustered to do so. Which just meant he'd show you again, making everything worse.

It drove you crazy that he could make you feel this way with just a single innocent touch. It shouldn't be this way. Yes, he had let you sleep in his bed that one night, and maybe you weren't entirely delusional to think that it meant something, but you were still just friends.

On the other hand, Lockwood had never hugged you for the sake of explaining fencing moves to you. Lockwood had never let you sleep in his bed. Yet that was what he would do for Lucy and you know how he felt about her.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Several weeks later ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You stood in the dimly lit basement, breathing heavily as you lowered your rapier until its tip scraped over the concrete floor. Esmeralda, the straw doll, was swinging back and forth, and you turned to your three colleagues who stood by the wall, watching you. The pieces of straw you had whacked out of Esmeralda crunched under your boots as you walked over to the rack to put the rapier away. George offered you a glass of water and you took a sip while looking at Lockwood expectantly.

He had his arms crossed, a solemn expression on his face, and for a moment you were scared, but then he couldn't hold back his smile any longer.

"Congrats Y/N, you did very well. I'd love to welcome you to Lockwood & Co in the position of a field agent."

"Really?!" He nodded, but you weren't even looking at him anymore. Instead, you leapt over to a surprised George, who opened his arms just in time to catch you as you threw your arms around him and hugged him tightly. He took a few seconds to recuperate, then his hands came to rest on your lower back. "Thank you", you whispered in his ear. Lockwood cleared his throat and you quickly stepped back, remembering that he and Lucy stood right next to you. In your peripheral, you could see George scratch the back of his neck, eyes focused on his feet.

"As I was saying", Lockwood continued with a raised eyebrow, "you can now join us in the field. If you want, we can go get you a rapier right now so you don't have to use one of the practice ones."

You nodded, doing your best to stay composed and not just jump up and down with giddiness. Finally, you had the chance to prove yourself as an agent. Never again did you want to be in a situation where the people closest to you were in danger yet you couldn't help them. You refused to ever feel that weak and useless again.

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That evening you left 35 Portland Row with a spring in your step, your brand-new rapier securely at your side, and your hand resting on top of it. Lockwood had made sure that tonight's case would be a simple one for you to get accustomed to what working as an agent meant.

When you climbed out of the cab 20 minutes later, the house towered over you, the setting sun behind it. A cold shiver ran down your back as you realised there was no backing down now, no matter what awaited you behind the dark, wooden door. George walked past you, hand brushing past your fingers so briefly that you wondered if it even happened. He gave you an encouraging smile as he grabbed your bag to carry it up to the house. You took a deep breath and followed him.

The door closed behind you, and for a moment, everything was quiet. "This is usually where you get your first impressions", Lucy whispered, standing next to you with closed eyes. "I'm not getting anything right now, but it's always good to try in case there is something." "Make sure to do it inside the house though", Lockwood added. "Never linger on the threshold."

You watched them carefully as they set up in the kitchen, George making tea, Lockwood and Lucy going through the bags and setting the equipment out on the table. George gave you the first cup of tea he poured and you sat down, looking at your reflection in the amber liquid in front of you. You weren't sure how you felt. A part of you still felt excited, but a much bigger part was growing anxious over what was waiting for you.

"It's seven now, and the sun is gone, so we'll get started on exploring the house", Lockwood said after taking a sip from his tea. "Y/N, since this is your first case you can choose who you want to pair up with."

Without thinking, you immediately looked over to George. "Is that okay?" you trailed off questioningly and he gave you a soft smile. "Of course, always." You smiled back, warmth spreading in your chest. Lucy, who sat next to you, mumbled something under her breath but you didn't quite catch it. "Well then let's go. George and Y/N, you'll go upstairs, we stay down here. Report back when you're done."

Silently, you watched as they put on their belts stuffed with salt bombs, matches, candles and silver nets. You knew those very well, you had refilled them more times than you could count. But you had never worn one, the weight on your shoulder feeling foreign as you stuffed some more salt bombs in the pockets of your jacket just for good measure. Lockwood patted your shoulder and Lucy gave you a thumbs up before they left the kitchen and then you were alone with George. "Do you feel ready?", he asked and you looked around the kitchen. In the warm light of the oil lamp, it looked cosy and homely. In contrast to that the rest of the house seemed cold and dark. "Yes", you replied.

You left the kitchen and turned right where, at the end of the hallway, a narrow staircase lead up to the second floor. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but slowly you could make out more and more of your surroundings as you followed George down the hallway. The plush carpet muffled the sounds of your steps, and you moved your hand to rest on your rapier, immediately feeling better. There was no reason to be scared.

A while later, you met back in the kitchen to report your findings, which weren't many. George had shown you how to take the temperature in every room so that was something you could do now, and you had also tried to use your talent of touch but had come up empty.

Lockwood made the second round of tea, and you noticed how this time, Lucy got the first cup. They had much more to tell as they had located the most probable location for the source somewhere in the downstairs office. "It was really cold in there", Lucy said, hands wrapped around her steaming cup of tea. "Much colder than it should have been, based on the time." You stayed in the kitchen for a while, before you gathered your chains and moved over to the office about an hour before midnight.

After you watched them set up, keeping close to the door yourself to not get in the way, the four of you gathered inside the iron circle. The room was dark, the moonlight pouring in through the two windows not doing much. You felt the urge to switch on the flashlight you had strapped to your belt but knew that it would just make it worse. Instead, you tried your best to make out the outlines of the furniture around you. The walls were lined with bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling, and every compartment looked to be stuffed with books, stacks of paper, and other things you couldn't quite identify in the dark even though you stood so close.

The only thing that was clearly visible was a large desk by the window, the polished wood lightly reflecting the little moonlight the clouds let through. You stood side by side with George, shoulders touching slightly. You wished you were even closer. When you shifted your weight over to the other foot, your hand accidentally brushed against his and you drew a sharp breath. You didn't dare to look over at him when suddenly you felt his hand slip into yours. Now you were thankful to the dark for hiding your blush and hoped he wouldn't be able to hear the way your heart was beating erratically. Your fingers intertwined and then you stood there, shoulder to shoulder, and the anxiety that had been growing in you since you stepped into the room somewhat subsided.

The temperature had dropped quickly, and you shivered slightly, now glad that you brought a jacket. Suddenly, George squeezed your hand and when you looked at him, he slightly nodded over to the far corner, where you could see fog gathering and swirling over the floorboards. You watched the white whisps travel higher until they formed something that resembled a human form. Sight wasn't your thing, so you couldn't make out any details but what you were seeing was enough.

"We wait a little longer and then I'll go out", Lockwood whispered, eyes trained on the shape that was slowly floating closer. "Luce, you'll search for the source, and Y/N and George, you back her up." He drew his rapier in a swift and effortless motion, waited another few seconds until the apparition had reached the middle of the room and then stepped over the chain. The apparition immediately glowed brighter, seemingly noticing him and he moved forward, rapier moving through the air so quickly that you almost got dizzy watching him. Seeing that made you painfully aware of how much of a beginner you still were.

Lucy hurried out of the circle as well, choosing to go around the desk to not alert the ghost of her presence and you wanted to follow her, but George pulled you back. "Let's stay here for a moment", he whispered, hand still holding yours. You nodded, watching Lucy kneel on the floor and rummage through the stacks of books and papers. Lockwood was still working on keeping the ghost in check, but you could tell by the way the temperature had dropped further and the papers on the shelves were rustling in the wind that the apparition had gained strength.

"You stay here," George said hastily before he pulled out his rapier and joined Lockwood. You stood for a moment, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of you. "Y/N!" Lucy called over to you, motioning you to come, and without thinking you left the safety of the iron circle and ran over to her. "The source must be somewhere around here", she said, "I think it's one of the books."

You looked over your shoulder briefly to see Lockwood and George still busy with the ghost whose shape was now so clear that you could make out little details in its clothes. You started ripping out books from the lowest compartment. "What are we looking for exactly?", you asked, your breath white in front of you in the cold of the room. "I have no idea, but you'll notice when you find it" Lucy replied, raising her voice over the increasing wind that was now strong enough to pick up some of the paper stuffed into the shelves. You got up, starting to pull out books from the higher compartments, unceremoniously dropping them behind you. About 30 seconds later Lucy yelled. "I think I got it! Salt bombs, Lockwood!"

Suddenly everything happened very quickly. Behind you, the room exploded into white light, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden brightness, stumbling back and right into the books you had just dropped. You could feel yourself losing balance and with flailing arms, you fell. You braced for an impact that never came, instead, arms wrapped around your midsection and stopped your fall. You slowly opened your eyes and turned your head to find George behind you. You tried your best to ignore the way he was holding onto you and to find your footing again. When you stood securely, he slowly lowered his arms and you immediately missed his touch. "Are you okay?" he asked. You nodded and were just about to say something when he looked up and behind you, shock overtaking his expression.

You tried to turn around but were pushed back as he threw himself against you, making you stumble again. This time you didn't fall, instead your back hit the wall next to the shelf, forcing the air out of your lungs. George was pressed up against you, and behind him, several thick stacks of papers and documents tumbled out of the shelf and hit the ground right where you stood a few seconds ago. But you didn't even notice, because all you could think about was how close he was, chest against yours, faces just inches from each other and somehow his hand had found yours again. You stared at each other, and you swore his eyes dropped down to your lips for a second before he took a step back, letting go of your hand and clearing his throat. "Are you okay?", he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose, voice sounding a little unsteady. You just nodded, feeling too overwhelmed to get out even a single word.

The office was a mess, papers and books everywhere, all covered in the salt that crunched under the sole of your shoes as you made a few wobbly steps forward. "Well, that's what I call a success", Lockwood exclaimed, wiping off some imaginary dust from his coat. As usual, he seemed unfazed by the chaos around him.

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Packing up didn't take long, and soon you were back in 35 Portland Row, where George immediately set the kettle on the stove for the next round of tea. Lockwood and Lucy soon excused themselves to their respective rooms, so then it was just you and George left.

You sat at the table, feeling tired now that the adrenaline had worn off, and you watched George making and pouring the tea. You liked watching him in the kitchen because he seemed so relaxed and always like he knew exactly what he was doing. He carried the two steaming cups over to the table and sat down in the chair next to you.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, sipping on your tea. Every now and then, you allowed your gaze to wander over to him before quickly looking away again in hopes he wouldn't catch you.

"Do you still have nightmares?", he broke the silence.

You looked at him, surprised by the question. "A few", you hesitantly answered. "Every now and then. Why?"

He was quiet for a while, staring down at his hands that fidgeted with the teaspoon. "Because you didn't come back to my room. I was wondering if that's because you just didn't have nightmares anymore or because you didn't want to. Guess I have my answer."

"Oh." You tried to search for the right words. "But - I wanted to, George. Every night. I didn't because I wasn't sure how you felt about it."

He turned to you. "Are you kidding? I thought I made it very clear how I felt about it. How I felt about you", he added, much more quietly.

You bit your lip. "How you feel about me?", you repeated breathlessly, words threatening to get stuck in your throat.

He reached over to take your hand. "Can I maybe try something?", he asked, and you nodded, heart beating out of your chest from the way he looked at you in the dim, warm light.

He leaned forward slightly, the hand that wasn't holding yours coming up to rest on your cheek as he pulled you in gently. Your eyes fluttered shut just as his lips met yours in a soft kiss. When he pulled away, you slowly opened your eyes again to find him already looking at you, with a smile so full of love that you felt even more dizzy than the kiss had left you. His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand.

"That's how I feel about you."

thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :))

[yourplayersaidwhat]

(Rogue and Druid are back from a cliffdiving session and have met back up with the rest of the party)

Rogue: Fighter, have you ever been cliffdiving?

Fighter: No, but it sounds fun. It sounds pretty scary too, actually.

Druid: I almost died. Twice.

Fighter: …

Druid: I also met a turtle!

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and pottery

the struggles that svt would go through during a pottery class masterlist

seungcheol:

accidentally presses down too hard on the foot pedal, almost sends his lump of wet clay flying into hansol on the other side of the room. kneads the clay so thoroughly that the instructor tells him that if there were any air bubbles in there then he's probably destroyed them twice over by now. makes little sounds of surprise every time the wheel goes a little too fast for his liking. creates a very smol and thick vase that looks like a large cup more than anything, but is vv proud of it :) 

jeonghan:

almost died trying to get the air out of his clay. complains that his arm is too weak to do this and he shouldn't be doing this with his injury. manages to convince the instructor to do all the kneading for him n also gets him to throw down the clay onto the wheel after seeing how much seungcheol struggled. likes the feeling of wet clay in his hands a lot, and probably spends half the time just playing with the clay as he builds it up and presses it down and builds it up and presses it down and builds it up and—

joshua:

makes exaggerated noises of effort as he's kneading the clay. compliments the instructor's sexy arms as he's giving a demonstration. laughs at seungcheol's clay almost flying off the wheel, gets distracted and almost has his lose balance too. also somehow his vase ends up looking crazy good???? finishes early and tries to help save dokyeom before he goes even further down the path of wet misshapenness that he's found himself lost in

junhui:

has So much fun playing with the pottery wheel. loves the feeling of wet clay too, enjoys the act of building it up and pressing it down. didn't enjoy the kneading as much, saying it hurt his forearms too much :((( laughs at the wonky shapes he manages to make his vase, ends up going with a cool contemporary look that was definitely intentional and didn't happen bc he almost slapped it off the wheel in his excitement

hoshi:

was lost from the start. enjoyed the kneading maybe a bit too much, wasn't paying attention when the instructor was explaining the next step. his clay was sitting wonky on the wheel and ended up splattering him with muddy water every time he tried to shape it before the instructor came around and fixed it for him. tries to paint everyone's faces with his dirty hands. keeps rambling about how handsome the instructor is, has to start the building up process a total of 4 times bc he keeps getting distracted

wonwoo:

honestly, using his hands in this way isn't his forte. was pretty good at the kneading thing and could center the clay pretty well, but getting the right pressure on the foot pedal was a bit difficult. his wheel's movements were rlly jerky bc he didn't want to send his clay flying into the wall (unlike some people's). gets too worried about making the walls thin and having it rip, ends up with a rather chunky looking vase but he's still so so proud of himself

woozi:

all the members tease him about how kneading the clay must be a piece of cake for him. jokes that this is about all the exercise he'll need for his forearms that week. is one of the members whose clay somehow manages to fly off the wheel and splatter against the wall, has to start the kneading process all over again. somehow makes a bowl instead of a vase, but he's not too fussed bc at least it means he can actually use it

minghao:

watched tons of pottery videos before their session, but had never even touched anything like a pottery wheel before. severely underestimated the amount of strength needed to knead the clay, was bullied by the members bc his spindly arms probably couldn't do it. manages to make a rlly fancy looking vase with a bulbous bottom and a narrow, tall top. is really pleased with his creation, has already booked another session in the studio

mingyu:

complains that his arms hurt as he's kneading the clay. keeps having to build up and press down his clay constantly bc he can't get as narrow an opening as he needs. blames it on his fingers. is in a competition against all the members (for some reason??? and he's the only one who even knows they're competing) and tries to make the best looking vase. ends up with a slightly lopsided vase, but is so pleased with himself bc it looks perfect in his eyes

dokyeom:

struggles The Most. knows he'll get lost easily, listens to the instructor so intently that he feels like his ears will detach from his body. accidentally presses down on his clay too hard and presses the pedal too firmly, ends up with a pancake of clay on the wheel that he has to peel off with his fingernails. the instructor is almost Permanently hovering above him before he has to go attend to hoshi's mishap n so he ends up with a joshua Permanently hovering over him instead. gets clay water all the way down to his elbows. and on his cheeks. and on his canvas shoes. it's everywhere, really. 

seungkwan:

tries his Best™. gets stressed out whenever the wheel starts going too fast, apologises to his clay when he feels like it's going out of control. has to do the building up and pressing down process several times bc he keeps accidentally wrinkling the clay while pressing it down. is in awe of joshua's perfect little vase, whines for an entire ten minutes and then strives to make one as pretty as that. doesn't feel like he gets anywhere near to that standard, but is still pretty happy for it being his first attempt

hansol:

the only member to have actually done pottery before. but like all of these weird experiences that he's somehow had in his life, he doesn't remember a thing about it. is another person who accidentally makes it fly into the wall, is a little flustered but overall rather chill about the process. makes a knobbly looking vase that kinda resembles a pickle, is infinitely pleased w himself

chan:

honestly is just there to Have Fun. looks around the studio in utter awe, makes small talk with the instructor while he's going around and observing them all, n manages to learn everything about him from his education to his inspiration to everything that he's ever made in the studio. is pretty good with the wheel, maybe a little wobbly in pulling up his vase but still rather confident. manages to get clay on his cheek, which seungcheol's points out to him and proceeds to 'help' by smothering his face with his own clay-covered hands

currently taking requests

[blueishspace]

Last Life with divine domains

Part 5: Session 7 and 8.

Fandom:

Well, for starters the suggestions from part 3...

@shortystack75, I loved all of them especially the idea of parallels between Hades and Persephone and Scott and Pearl...though I feel knowing the fandom only the Watcher/Listener connections are popular.

As for @easily-distracted-by-fandom I do agree that Bdubs causing Grian death not once but twice is...fascinating... Also, even though Jimmy wasn't red for long I love the idea of him going feral and I desperately need that fanart.

Now, for the ideas from last session:

Thank you @easily-distracted-by-fandom for the quotes "crying over burned flowers in the burning rain" "your tears fall from the sky", and yes everyone is freaking out because of Listener Martyn.

Exciting news, we have someone new to suggest stuff! @imnotthepersonyouseek! I love the idea of a Tango "look what u made me do" animatic, it sounds like something the fandom would come up with... I love even more the idea of a Magical Mountain found family. Especially with Jimmy starting out as an enemy, being kicked out from his team and being welcomed in by Scar...

Also, you say Justice blinds...but "Justice is blind" is like the perfect quote when it comes to the Martyn vs Grian situation.

Session 7

Pearl is chosen as the boogeyman, Grian sighs in relief at there only being one boogey.

Since Scar wasn't in this session because of being sick he doesn't get to link anyone for the session.

Martyn once again is given 3 rules to choose from: One more boogeyman is added to the session. (Two sessions in a row? That's ...unlikely) Every boogeyman must have 2 kills to be cured. Nobody is allowed to use armor. As a red all of these can help with taking out greens, I think the armor is eliminated because of it also hurting him so... Let's say he chooses two kills just because It's new.

Let's focus on the ex team BEST... while Skizz is a red and teams with the other reds Etho and Tango are split up and need allies. As they are all enemies of Magical Mountain none of them attempt an alliance with it... This leaves the shadow alliance on one side and the Scottage on the other... I feel like Etho gravitates towards The Shadow Alliance leaving Tango to go with the Scottage. I do think Tango and Cleo can understand eachother a bit as they have very similiar situations...

Lizzie as a red life definitely goes after Joel, it definitely doesn't go well for her with Joel being part of a pretty op team but she definitely tries.

At this point Pearls electricity cut offs like in our world causing another boogeyman to be needed... In our world Martyn was chosen but this can't happen since he's red so the boogeyman is *randomizer* Grian who panics as he realizes he has to get double the kills in half the time.

Mumbo and Jimmy don't die as they aren't anywhere near Grian and Grian doesn't die as he is nowhere near Martyn... BigB still dies though as he's still hunted down by Lizzie... And then opens Pearl's chest trap and explodes going straight to red.

Skizz doesn't die...yet... as he isn't working with Impulse to get a kill and he's probably with Lizzie and the other reds.

As for Grian's boogie kills... Well, he definitely goes after Jimmy and Mumbo considering not only is Magic Mountain his biggest enemy but because of both of them choosing Magic Mountain over him in some way... ....As for the wither he still spawns it as it was his objective since the start but BEST is no more and so he doesn't do it near their base... He probably does it near Magical Mountain as again they are his biggest enemies and he does it probably soon after getting his kills because of the timing of the session so...

A red life Jimmy with almost nothing on him would find himself face to face with a wither and Secret Life shows us what Jimmy does in that scenario... Die.

Jimmy is, despite everything, the first player out of Last Life. Considering he also died in Third Life...the canary curse is born... 2 of his lives were taken by Grian in some way.

Etho makes a similiar deal with Bdubs, offering a life for a death so Lizzie still dies and Bdubs is killed by the other reds for his betrayal.

The session ends with a lot less deaths then canon.

Lives

Scar and Joel have 4 lives.

Etho, Mumbo, Ren, Pearl and Scott have 3 lives.

Cleo, Tango, Impulse and Grian have 2 lives.

BigB, Skizz and Martyn have 1 life.

Jimmy, Lizzie and Bdubs are out.

Session 8

Scott becomes the boogey at the start of the session...since he's a green life he actually does something about it or at least plans on it.

Scar already had it out for the southlanders but now Grian went and killed Mumbo and permakilled Jimmy... Grian is getting linked to Impulse.

Martyn gets 3 rules to chose from (just to clear things up... Yes, being red life gives Martyn more chaotic rules to add, I use a different wheel): Nobody is allowed to use names for the whole session, All (current) yellow lives become boogeymen and All red lives must kill another red life... As a red life the second one is a fun one because it adds four Boogeymen to the mix.

Grian got confused when an extra boogeyman popped up, then he was disconcerted when as a Boogeyman he was told to get two kills... And, now suddenly he becomes a boogeyman out of nowere?!? Funny thing Martyn has no idea Grian doesn't understand what's going on anymore because of him.

A while later Etho runs into a creeper and goes boom... If Pearl still tries to use Scar's enchanter then she is also killed by either him or the skeleton.

Grian still gets Ren, just for another reason: The boogeyman curse... Meanwhile Tango doesn't explode himself as he's not in the snow castle anymore... Joel also doesn't get Pearl this time.

Cleo still kills BigB but Ren doesn't get to kill Scar...

As for Scott, well, Joel and Scar are the perfect target if we consider they have 4 lives and Scar did kill him a while ago so It's only fair.

Tango... well, he can get Etho or Ren at this point in time and Etho betrayed him as much as Bdubs did choosing Bdubs' side so... Etho goes red.

As for Impulse he could go after either Magical Mountain or Scottage... I think Magical Mountain is the better option at this point in time, maybe Mumbo of Scar? Maybe Scar can offer the bonus life for not getting killed? After all he likely still has it... Now Martyn and Skizz are both very anti-Scar by now so I think Scar still ends up dying during the session. As for Impulses boogey kill is likely Scott.

Lives

Scar, Joel, Mumbo, Ren and Impulse have 3 lives.

Scott, Pearl, Grian and Tango have 2 lives.

Skizz, Etho and Martyn have 1 life.

Jimmy, Lizzie, Bdubs and BigB are out.

Fandom

You know the drill people, I know I'm going to love what you guys are going to say.

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