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curly-bangtan · 5 years ago

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A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever��s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 4 years ago

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Love in an Underground Bunker - AU Day 5

Title: Love in an Underground Bunker

Author: Purple_ducky00

Prompted by @ironfamquotesincorrect

Link Filled: U2: Secret Relationship of the Bucky Barnes Bingo

Rating: Explicit

Warning: N/A

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Tony Stark

Link: Read on AO3

Summary: Tony doesn’t remember not living in fear. When his father was a young man, there was an uprising against the government. In turn, the government unleashed a highly toxic gas upon its citizens. The few who did not rebel were rewarded with palaces and mansions built on higher elevations to protect them from the gasses. They were transported in hover jets. Those who rebelled were forced to live on the ground, choked by the deadly gasses. Although the government committed genocide, some people had foresight, however, and built large underground bunkers. Howard had invented a device that filtered the gas out of the air. The rebels planted them in many places over the country. When the government found out, they began to send their AIM agents out to replenish the air with their toxic gas.

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS NSFK!

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The air is bad. They have to find shelter, but they might not have enough time. The AIM agents are upon them, spraying them with the toxic gas that caused so much destruction in the first place. Tony trips on a rock, falling flat on his face and smashes his oxygen mask. The gas starts to fill his already weak lungs, and he can feel himself drifting… drifting… Suddenly the cool oxygen is back. He looks up to see a mask-less Bucky Barnes.

“Stay there” Barnes mouths and spins around firing his weapon. Tony knows Barnes is superhuman, but even he can’t breathe too much of this gas, or he’ll die. Natasha slides in beside Barnes, taking down AIM henchmen one by one. As the AIM men fall, the gas rises. Pretty soon, it gets too high and Tony, Bucky, and Nat have to make a break for it. They reach their hideout before the gas overtakes them.

Bucky takes one step inside the bunker and collapses. Captain Rogers, the leader and Bucky’s best friend, runs over. “What happened? Where’s his mask? Tony, why do you have his mask on?” He roars. “What is the number one rule in this unit?”

“Never take off your mask nor take another’s outside the bunker.” Tony mumbles.

“Exactly.” Rogers snaps. “Now, Bucky could have died! He’s being taken to intensive care now. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry.” Tony looks Steve right in the eyes. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t! From now on, you’re not cleared for missions. Your entire job is to repair broken armor and tech.”

Tony wants to scream. That is not fair. All he did was trip on a rock that he couldn’t see due to the gas. They weren’t even supposed to be out that late, but Steve needed intel. And it wasn’t his fault that Bucky gave him his mask. What was he supposed to do – take it off and hand it back to Bucky? Then they’d both be suffering from the gas. Knowing it’s no use to argue, Tony sighs and turns to go to his quarters. Exhausted from the long day, he gets a quick shower and falls asleep.

++++++

Tony doesn’t remember not living in fear. When his father was a young man, there was an uprising against the government. In turn, the government unleashed a highly toxic gas upon its citizens. The few who did not rebel were rewarded with palaces and mansions built on higher elevations to protect them from the gasses. They were transported in hover jets. Those who rebelled were forced to live on the ground, choked by the deadly gasses. Although the government committed genocide, some people had foresight, however, and built large underground bunkers. Howard had invented a device that filtered the gas out of the air. The rebels planted them in many places over the country. When the government found out, they began to send their AIM agents out to replenish the air with their toxic gas.

The water is toxic, and the insurgents must rely on deep water wells for drinking and cleaning. Underground greenhouses with UV lights are used to grow plants. Animals are kept in paddocks as large as each unit can afford. Storehouses of canned goods are piled high. Each leader must set their own rations. Given that Steve had fought all his life, he set rations fairly.

Every day at 7pm, AIM agents are air dropped into the lowlands and spray more gas across the lands. Anyone who had to leave the bunker made sure they had a weapon and got back before 7pm. AIM agents are known for shooting first and never asking questions.

Last night, an AIM agent destroyed the SHEILD bunker transmission systems, so Steve’s unit was stranded with no comms. He sent Tony, Bucky, and Nat out to repair the systems. It was not an easy fix, however, and it took Tony a long time to repair the busted systems. By 6pm, he had the comms up and running functionally but not perfectly, but Rogers asked them to stay a little to perfect and camouflage them. By the time they had finished, it was 7pm and they had to avoid AIM agents.

Now, Tony’s sitting on his bed, wondering if Bucky’s ok. He would go sit by his bed, but no one knows he and Bucky are dating. The units don’t encourage relationships for a few reasons. 1.) They don’t want children running around the bunker. They understand that in order to survive for generations, they will have to reproduce, but they hope to make the world a little better before they do. 2.) People unfortunately are bound to die. Everyone should be unhappy, but they don’t want anyone unable to do their jobs due to grief. Steve is a little more lenient with his unit, but Tony knows Steve disapproves of him, he wouldn’t be happy to know his best friend is dating him. 3.) Close quarters. No one wants to hear anything.

Tony decides to check in on him, if only to see what he’s doing. Unsurprisingly, Steve is sitting beside Bucky’s bed. He looks up when Tony walks up to the open door. “What are you doing here?” He hisses.

“I just came by to see if he’s okay,” Tony blurts, taken aback by Steve’s animosity. He thought Steve would by upset, but not full-out angry.

Steve rises from his chair. “You don’t deserve to see him. He almost died!”

“So, Steve, I was running some numbers, and it looks like…” Howard stops at the door and looks up from his tablet. “What’s going on here?”

“Your son almost got Bucky killed. Now he wants to make sure he’s all right.” Steve scoffs. “He wouldn’t have to if he had just kept his mask on.”

Howard shakes his head. “When has Anthony ever been rational? He’s an idiot. Now, Tony, leave us so Steve and I can discuss.”

“Whatever.” Tony throws up his hands. It’s not like he’ll get anywhere trying to argue with these two. Neither of them like him, and they’re just going to dismiss him anyways.

Tony understands why Steve is so protective of Bucky. He was captured by the government at one point and experimented on. They wanted to turn him into an invincible mindless AIM agent that would destroy the rebellion once and for all. Luckily, Steve was able to sneak in, thanks to Howard and Peggy, and free Bucky. It took a while for Bucky to readjust to his life, and he was kept in isolation for a long time. Now, Steve freaks out if even the slightest thing happens to him.

Slamming his hand against the wall, Tony groans and walks into his makeshift lab. He does most of the updating and innovation now. Howard used to but as his health is declining to his great dismay, he reluctantly passed the role off to Tony. Howard doesn’t hesitate to rip Tony apart any chance he can get, even if Tony’s update works excellently.

He grumbles as he fixes up his mask. He’s going to make this thing nigh indestructible. DUME wheels over, cocking his claw as if asking a question. “It’s ok, DUME, it was my fault, but I’m just mad.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Steve yours broke?” Tony jumps as he hears Nat’s voice from the doorway.

“Gah. Nat, I have a condition!” He yelps. “You know he won’t care. It’s me. I’m always fucking up. I’m sure if it were up to Howard, he’d send me out without a mask to fend for myself. Luckily, Steve cares a little about human lives, even if he’s not a fan of the human himself.”

Natasha walks in and pats DUME on the head. He squeals and wheels around in circles excitedly. Tony smiles. “He already has a crush on you. Don’t encourage him.”

“Tony. I know why you don’t want to make a big deal about it. You guys have been very subtle and sneaky, but I know. No matter what, you should tell Steve that your mask broke.”

“I’m not going to. And you’re not either.” Tony points a finger at her.

She smiles sweetly. “I dare you to stop me.” And walks out, closing the door behind her.

Tony groans again and bangs his head on the countertop. What is his life?

++++++

Bucky wakes up with a start. Tony is dying… or hurt… or… Bucky struggles to find air. It feels like someone just sucked out his lungs.

“Bucky. Bucky. Hey, you’re safe.” Steve is there.

He sucks in a large breath and starts to cough. “Where’s cough Tony cough? Is…” His sentence gets cut off by a series of hacking coughs.

Steve waits until Bucky calms before he schools his face and says stiffly, “Tony’s fine. He should be the least of your worries. It’s his fault you got hurt.”

“I had a dream that he was in pain. Is he here?”

“It’s just the neurotoxins from the gas,” Bruce explains calmly. “Tony’s fine.”

“I need to see him.”

“Bucky, please. He’s fine.” Steve starts to argue, but Bucky just pleads.

“Steve, you should know why I need to see him. Just… let me see him, please?” Bucky has told Steve about the nightmares he’d had after Steve rescued him from the government. Bucky would have to sleep in the same room as Steve so that he knew that Steve was still there, alive and well. A physical touch went a long way for Bucky after these nightmares.

Steve can’t say no to the fear in Bucky’s eyes, so he calls for Tony to come to medical. Tony arrives a few minutes later, shifting from foot-to-foot. Bucky latches onto his Sun, the center of his universe, immediately. “Tony,” he breathes.

++++++

Tony is helping | Rhodey with his new armor when Steve’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tony, report to medical immediately.”

“What did you do?” Rhodey asks. He is the only person Tony told about him and Bucky. He knows he can trust Rhodey to keep a secret.

Tony raises his hands. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe that’s what the problem is.” He shakes his head. “I better go before I get reduced to dishwashing duty only or something.”

He races down to the medical and stops at the door when he sees Bucky is awake. Bucky is looking at him with relief and adoration in his eyes. “Tony,” He says, almost reverently.

“Hi Bucky.” Tony smiles sadly. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.” He turns to Steve. “Did you need something?”

Steve nods to Bucky who has reached his arms out and is now wiggling his fingers at Tony. “Go to him. He needs to make sure you’re ok.”

What the hell is going on here? Did Bucky tell Steve? Tony thinks incredulously as he walks over to Bucky. And Steve is supportive? Then he remembers Bucky telling him about nightmares he has that feel so real, he needs physical reassurance. “Hey Bucky. I’m ok. I’m alright, thanks to you. You saved me.”

Bucky pets Tony’s hair and runs his hand down the side of his face. “You’re ok.” He says softly. “Tony, darling, I almost died in those nightmares. If you weren’t here? What’s the point?”

“I’m sure you could live without me.” Tony doesn’t know what to say. Are they still keeping it a secret? Are they not? He doesn’t know.

“No.” Bucky clutches Tony’s hand to his heart. “I love you, Tony. You’re my life, my love. When you fell and I saw that your mask was cracked, I knew I had to give you mine. I knew I’d be fine without one, but you wouldn’t have been. Don’t ever scare me like that again, love.”

Tony’s heart melts. “Hey Winter Wonder. I love you, too. Don’t worry, I’ll be staying in for a long time. Now, it’s just me who has to worry about you.”

“I’ll be extra careful.” Bucky smiles and closes his eyes. “Now kiss me.”

Steve gapes and sputters. Tony doesn’t care. He leans down and kisses Bucky, who sighs in happiness and kisses back. When the kiss goes past PG, Steve clears his throat, and Tony pulls back. “So, um, you and… and… Bucky.” He looks like he swallowed a lemon.

“Yep.” Tony challenges Steve to say something.

“Oh… I didn’t know…” He just mutters.

Bucky whines and pulls Tony back to him, seemingly oblivious of everyone else in the room. Tony sits on the bed next to him, and Bucky nuzzles into Tony’s hip. He falls back asleep very quickly. Steve sits in the room with them for a few minutes, then excuses himself.

“Call me if he wakes,” Bruce whispers and heads out, too.

Tony pulls out his phone and plays a game that he programmed for a little while. He soon gets drowsy and leans back against the headboard and falls asleep. Having been moved down to lie beside his lover, he wakes up a few hours later to see Bucky’s face inches from his. “Hi,” he whispers.

Bucky is more lucid now, and he asks, “Did we just out ourselves to Steve?”

“I think so. Is that ok?” Tony’s eyes search Bucky’s face for any sign of anger.

“I don’t care. I just wanted to make sure you’re not mad at me.” Bucky squeezes his hand. “I was the one who said something first.”

“You should have seen Steve’s face.” Tony laughs. He recounts how Steve reacted to Bucky, who laughs loudly, then clutches his chest. “Note to self, don’t make Bucky laugh until he heals.”

Tony stays with Bucky until he heals. Steve comes to see him after Bucky is released and Tony is back in his lab. Bucky is under his table, blowing him. Tony steels himself, waiting to be reprimanded. Steve clears his throat and says, “So, Natasha told me that your mask broke.”

“Yeah. It snapped on a rock, but I fixed it. It shouldn’t break anymore.” Tony holds up the mask. Bucky changes his technique and Tony lurches. “Sorry that it wasn’t in the begi-”

Steve cuts him off. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been treating you wrongly, and it | was not fair of me to treat you so. You are a big help to this team, and I’ve treated you like I would someone who slacks off at every turn. Unfortunately, I believe I’ve been influenced by Howard, but I plan to change that. Can you forgive me?”

“Sure…?” Tony is dumbstruck. Never in a thousand years did Tony expect Steve to apologize. It’s also hard for Tony to concentrate when Bucky’s doing that to him. “It’s alright Cap. No harm done.” Tony bites his lip to keep from moaning.

“No, it’s not. And I am going to change. You're cleared for missions, too. Thank you, Tony.” He makes to leave, then turns back. No Steve, just go. I can’t hold it in any longer. “And Tony? You are good for Bucky. I’m happy for you both.”

Tony gapes. Steve said what? “Did you hear that?” He asks. “Did he say what I… ughhhh… thought he said, or am I oh fuck Bucky just hnng dreaming?”

Bucky just swallows him to the root, and Tony spills over the edge. Bucky swallows every last drop, tucks him back in, and says, “I definitely heard it, babe.”

Tony lets him come out from under the desk, then pushes him into the chair. “My turn.” He locks the lab door and prepares to give Bucky the best head he’s given yet. The future might look bleak, but Tony and Bucky are just enjoying the moment.

#winteriron #post apocalypse au #nsfk #smut under the cut #buckybarnesbingo2020 #secret relationship #au_gust_2020 #i write!

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anerdinallherglory · 5 years ago

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Approaching Sun (26)

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! I realize that it has been a LONG time since I have updated this story. The school year has been an absolute killer. Not to mention that I am also working on my master’s degree and taking a ton of classes this summer.

In regards to this chapter, I ended up running out of time and decided to cut it in half due to the coherency of the story and the length. I wanted to give Satou and Isao a bit of a wrap up that does the story justice. However, the good news is that the second half will take less time to be posted. I will definitely be trying to work on this story because I have a LOT planned for it and it’s only just getting to the good parts (one coming up next chapter.) For my patient readers, this will be good news to you. For those who aren’t patient, hoping you’ll stick around to read J

Also, next to Naruto, reading and writing are my passions and my New Year’s resolution is to encourage more people to read. I created an Instagram account called read_with_rich where I will be posting about high-interest books in order to encourage non-readers to read by using the social media platform that can introduce people to books without them going to libraries or book stores (which they won’t if they don’t already read.) Give me a follow if you are interested!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26: Monsters

There was a sharp mix of pungent smells permeating the air around them as Sasuke looked over Sakura’s shoulder at a particular herbalist book. His friend was sitting at a table in the center of the greenhouse, flipping through the Sunagakure plant log, scratching down a list of all the ingredients she would need to create the military ration pills.

When Sasuke commented on the smell, Sakura replied with “You get used to it.” And then she went into a detailed explanation of why plants even created all sorts of different smells--why many flowers had sweet aromas, but other plants had fouler scents. Sakura elaborated that it all had something to do with procreation. Something about bugs being attracted to them in order to spread pollination. She even went into the genetic purposes of tastes in plants. Sasuke listened with genuine interest at the wide variety of facts that she possessed.

Sasuke turned and leaned against the table as she spoke, tucking in his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. When he was sure she was distracted, Sasuke peeked at her between the lashes of his right eye. He noticed that her brow was furrowed as she searched for the plant she had written down. After a few minutes of this, she began to tap the end of the pen against her bottom lip, a subconscious behavior many people did while thinking. Sasuke couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s small habitual behaviors in the past few years except for in battle scenarios. To watch the cogs spinning in Sakura’s mind, had Sasuke feeling like he had missed out on much in the last several years.

After another few seconds, Sakura explained her concern: “I’m going to have to find a substitute plant for the medicinal aspects of the pills. Sunagakure doesn’t grow Tikasia in abundance here. The amount that I would need would deplete their entire reserve.”

Sasuke considered her word for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed a fraction when the door of the greenhouse opened. A white-coated man with sandy colored hair beamed hugely and raised his hand in greeting as he entered. “There you are, Sakura-san. I’ve been looking for you!”

Sakura broke from her deep concentration and turned from the table as she picked up on the calling. Sasuke raised his eyebrows slightly at the familiar tone the young man used. This must be a staff member from the hospital, a colleague that was working closely with Sakura while she was here. His presumption was confirmed when Sakura returned both the smile and call.

“Sorry Mako! Hope you haven’t been looking for too long.”

Mako?What-- are they on a first name basis or something? Sasuke pondered with a frown of disapproval.Sakura barely knew him, or at least, that’s what Sasuke thought. At least Makohad the decency to add the proper honorific to her name. Not that Sasuke could be the one to lecture on the topic.

The young physician made his way over to them and immediately offered a respectful bow to the both of them. Sasuke was never very good at returning these customs of respect, but after a minute of awkward staring, the Uchiha nodded his acknowledgement in a very uncaring sort of way. After bowing, the medic immediately turned to Sakura and glanced at her work on the table.

“Are you creating another medicine?” Mako asked, crossing his hands behind him in consideration, boldly reading the list she had compiled next to the herbal catalog.

Seeing her co-medic’s interest, Sakura picked it up and handed it to him while simultaneously pushing the book in his direction, an invitation for his opinion.

“You’re just the person I need right now actually.” She explained to Mako how she was creating a batch of military ration pills, a notion at which the male medic’s facial expression turned to one of surprise. Sasuke understood his disbelief; not many people knew how to make such a desired sustenance that tipped the scale in favor of those who consumed it in battle. When bringing up the topic of the ingredients she needed, he raised his thumb and forefinger to his chin, pinching it in contemplation.

Sasuke stiffened slightly when the young man pulled up a seat to sit beside her, pulling the book closer so they could both look at it together. “What about Ashuwa?” he offered, flipping to a plant towards the front of the book. Sasuke peeked over towards the illustration and noticed a shrubby little plant with bright yellow flowers.

“Ashuwa?” Sakura questioned, frowning down at the picture. “That belongs to the nightshade family, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he informed, “but it’s not fatal like many of its other relatives. It’s actually quite safe to consume unless the patient has some sort of allergic reaction to it.”

“That’s interesting. I’m not very familiar with it. What are its properties?”

“It’s a little stronger than Tikasia but more acclimated to our desert climate, so we have plenty of it here. Its primary effect is a boost in brain function. However, we have observed an increase in energy and muscle mass along with it. Some ninja even claim that after consuming it, it relieves them of stress.”

“All that?” Sakura pondered, dropping her jaw.

Sasuke raised an inquisitive brow as well. With benefits like that, it was a wonder they didn’t add it to every meal here. There had to be missing information obviously…

Sakura must have been thinking the same thing Sasuke had, because she immediately responded with. “What are the negative effects?”

Mako smiled at her insight. “Just like Tikasia, you crash and suffer chakra depletion as a result. You have to take far less of it than Tikasia. Like I said earlier, many people have severe allergic reactions to the plant which is why we don’t use it often.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the pair of doctors who discussed plants so casually with one another. Mako had a sort of charisma about him, and Sasuke could tell why Sakura would rely on him while she was here. The young man’s temperament sort of reminded Sasuke of their old schoolteacher, Iruka-sensei. However, Mako’s knowledge was so thorough that he almost reminded Sasuke of Kabuto; Sasuke had witnessed many in-depth medical conversations between Orochimaru and he.

Still leaning against the table, Sasuke closed his eyes, adopting an uninterested guise to go with the frown. Seeing them together, discussing their common interests, reminded Sasuke of something despite his epiphany last night. Watching her familiarity with this person reminded Sasuke that just because he had finally admitted to himself that loved her, didn’t mean that he should do anything about it. Sakura had told him firmly that she would only ever choose him and to not assume that if he left her alone, she would fall in love with someone else. Sasuke truly believed his female teammate about this. But seeing her cheerfully interact with Mako made Sasuke want to believe otherwise. Even though it stung him to think about Sakura loving someone else and another man being a part of her daily life, waking up beside her and hearing a confession from her lips, Sasuke knew it was what she deserved. He could never be that sort of man for her, especially not in the near future.

But now that Sasuke was certain of his feelings, would he be able to only ever be a close friend to her? Would he be able to watch someone else come into her life and become the person Sakura swooned over and built a family with? He would, Sasuke told himself. He hadto. Sasuke had already chosen in his heart to be the Itachi of this time and make the sacrifice for the greater good so that his loved ones like Sakura even had a future. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

Without meaning to, he let a low exhale of self-defeat escape his mouth. Realizing he had done so, Sasuke quickly glanced to his right to make sure no one noticed. Sakura, who Sasuke now noticed had stopped what she was doing, was now watching him despite the fact that Mako was still flipping through the book and explaining something to her.

His kunoichi teammate locked gazes with him, furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head in silent question. Sasuke broke their eye-contact immediately and Sakura returned her attention to Mako. It’s for the best, he thought to her.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mako lead Sakura across the greenhouse to the white-labeled bushel of Ashu that he had spoken to her about. She measured out the amount she would need and began cutting it carefully with his assistance. Sakura had been surprised at this substitute that Mako had offered with certainty at its effectiveness. She pinched a sizable piece of it and placed it on her tongue and began to chew. With it being a nightshade after all, she wanted to be certain that it wasn’t toxic. Nightshades were highly cultivated by humans and most were safe to consume like Mako said, but since she had never heard of this plant and it was unfamiliar to her, she wanted to double-check Mako’s claim. Besides, he said it could cause allergic reactions.

Just so Mako’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her taste-testing, Sakura simply announced, “This actually tastes quite yummy. Much better than the bitter Tikasia.” Then she called out loud enough for Sasuke—who had been casually leaning against the table since their arrival—to hear, “You’re in luck, Sasuke. Maybe these pills won’t taste like ‘mudballs’ this time like Sai famously calls them.”

Sasuke peeked open his right eye at her, clearly not grasping a word of what she was referencing. Mako, on the other hand, laughed at her statement.

“Tikasia israther bitter. Is Sai a friend back home? Your friend really called them ‘mudballs’ to your face?” Mako laughed.

Sakura chuckled to herself a bit, returning her full attention to Mako. “Sai is a sort of special friend. He’s brutally honest; always has been.”

“Sometimes we need friends like that,” Mako said reassuringly, helping her pluck the stems and flowers of the plant and wrapping it up in paper.

Sakura nodded in agreement and instantly recalled many of her friends back home and a sort of homesickness radiated in her chest at the thought of them. She wondered how all of them were doing. She also thought of the hospital and Lady Tsunade in that moment too, and made a mental note to write a letter to check in on them.

She glanced up at Sasuke for the twentieth time that day, and her homesickness disappeared. When he was absent, she was always sick with longing for him. It suddenly surprised Sakura that she had never felt more at home than when she was with this man. She had confessed this to him before, but when he was gone, it felt as if she was alone. Sakura would fall asleep with thoughts of him and miss him just as much the following morning. That feeling had disappeared on her journey and this was the first time the kunoichi had missed someone else since she had picked up her bag and followed Sasuke down the cobbled street that night a few weeks ago.

Mako’s statement returned her to the present moment from her thoughts. “Isao slept well last night. After you left with Gaara, he was distraught and restless after what happened. We ended up giving him your dosage of the sleeping medicine and he didn’t experience any sleep terrors.”

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed, almost jumping for joy in her excitement. This was exciting news. If they could eliminate the terrors, then Isao would be okay. Maybe he could stop taking the medicine once his body adjusted.

“Satou, his father, however,” Mako began as they made their way back towards the center table towards Sasuke. “Well—he’s a bit hysterical in the hospital. The man definitely needs to be there, but we are not quite sure what to do for him. He’s actually the reason I came looking for you. I figure you might be the only one able to talk to him.”

Sakura nodded as they came to a stop and she set her items down. “I see.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke had been thoroughly pissed when Sakura had announced to him her plans and handed him the bundle of paper-wrapped yellow flowers. “Will you grind these up for me while I quickly check-in on a patient? They should be dry enough on their own. We need to mix this in with the rest of our batch as soon as possible.”

The Uchiha nodded with a “hm” but had half a mind to shove the flowers and grinder toward Mako since he was inclined to be so damn helpful.

Apparently, she was duty-bound to go see some hospital patient with an attitude problem and Sasuke had guessed easily who it was. After seeing the bruises on her chest last night, it was hard not to think about this patient of hers. It settled like a knife between Sasuke’s shoulder blades as he began to pulverize the flowers in the mortar with the stone pestle. He glowered after the two medics as the door to the greenhouse swung to a shut behind them.

Sasuke knew that Sakura was aware of his eagerness to get the pills so he could return to his mission. And because she predicted this, Sasuke knew without a doubt that Sakura had played him. She had given him this little job to keep him occupied for a few minutes because he couldn’t put the task off. But what shedidn’t know was that it certainly wouldn’t take him as long as she hoped. Sasuke removed another heap of flowers from the paper and began to smash them forcefully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura had managed to come up with a small plan in the few seconds after Mako had informed her about Satou, Isao’s hysterical father, whom Sakura and Gaara had placed under the care of the hospital yesterday. The first and most necessary part of her plan was to keep Sasuke busy and away from her patient. After seeing her teammate’s reaction to the small bruises on her chest last night, she didn’t want the two ninja to have the least bit of interaction.

The second part was to ensure that Isao was kept far, faraway from his father. If the child was showing any progress at all after having distance from him, then Sakura would be damned if Satou meant to screw that up. Trailing closely behind her, Mako confirmed her hope that Isao remained at the mental health children’s clinic and was being strictly supervised.

Finally, the last rocky bit of her plan was to try her best to remain calm and civil with Satou despite what she predicted his treatment of her would be. Sakura anticipated every bit of an angry temper and possibly aggression.

Having Mako with her made Sakura feel more reassured. In the back of Sakura’s mind, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about because she could rely on her abilities as a ninja, not his, but it was still a comfort to have him with her as a steady, supportive presence.

When they finally reached Satou’s hospital room and they entered, Sakura gasped. Apparently, Satou had considered this place a prison cell rather than a patient room. The bed was tipped, and the curtain torn from the rod above the windows. The massive punched out crevices in the walls around them were threatening portraits of warning. Sakura heard Mako echo her surprise. Sensing their presence, Satou turned from the window and glowered at them.

“Glad to see my warden has finally come to see me,” the man spat viciously.

While Mako’s expression was one of disbelief, Sakura erased the emotion from her own, slipping on a blank pretense. Forget step three of her plan, then. It was obvious what kind of man Satou was. He had no respect or care in the world for anyone and her kindness would be seen as a weakness to bully her for. Pretending to be civil would be an entire waste of her time because Sakura recognized the hate in Satou’s eyes, glassy pools that reflected the darkness in his heart. How bitter it made Sakura—to see Sasuke’s formal self in one of her patients; how hopeless this conversation would be even though he was the one person who needed it the most.

Sakura believed this man deserved her gentlest persona, but Sakura had tried playing this game before and failed miserably with Sasuke. If Sakura—a former teammate and close friend—couldn’t have reached into the depth of Sasuke’s darkness and rip him from it, then how could she expect to be successful with an absolute stranger? She thought of Naruto and Gaara and how they might approach this. Adopting Naruto’s methods before, Sakurahad fought Sasuke to knock some sense into him, but Sakura couldn’t just go starting fights with her patients.

Confidence then. Sakura crossed her arms behind her back and raised her chin. “I’m not your warden; just someone who is trying to help you and your son.”

He began to laugh—that psychotic pitch that set Sakura’s heart racing. It frightened her to see that this man was more lost than she had thought. This wasn’t just a man who had taken his anger out on his son. “That’s what pisses me off the most about you leaf village filth. You think you have the right to march in and do as you please.”

Mako responded before Sakura could silence him, “Be careful what you say. Haruno-san is an honored guest of the Lord Kazekage and he asked for her assistance at the hospital.”

Well half true. I did invite myself here I suppose. Sakura didn’t correct Mako; Satou was completely prejudiced toward Konoha and its citizens. She reminded herself to steer clear of the political past between their two villages. Satou’s next comment brought an immediate halt to Sakura’a analytical approach to reasoning with him.

“You’d think the Kazekage wouldn’t give his whores a false sense of entitlement in village they don’t belong in.”

It was hard to contain her inner voice at that moment, who happened to be screaming loudly. WHO THE HELL DOES THIS BASTARD THINK HE IS?

Sakura let out a calming breath and put hand on Mako’s arm who was surprisingly doing a good enough job for the both of them at giving this terrifying ninja a piece of his mind despite the aptitude gap.

Before she could respond, the door opened and someone stepped in. Seeing Sasuke momentarily took her aback because that powder job should have taken him at least 45 minutes to complete, yet here he was a mere 10 minutes after being assigned the task. He must have a question.

And then Sakura saw his face. A red and purple combination flashed towards Satou and Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet. Had he just heard what Satou called her?

When Sakura reached him and placed a hand on his arm, his gaze snapped from Satou and landed on her. “Did you need something?” she asked kindly, assessing the situation and deciding to act casually. Maybe if she came off as unaffected by Satou’s comment, then Sasuke wouldn’t feel the need to react.

“Here,” he responded gruffly after recovering some composure, shoving the mortar she had given him earlier towards the space between them. “You said you needed this quickly didn’t you? Go on ahead and make the batch. I’ll talk to this guy.”

Sakura briefly savored the startled look on Satou’s face before turning her body towards Sasuke so she could whisper in private with her teammate. “Sasuke, I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s fine,” he softened his murmur to match her whisper. As he said this, his sharingan faded and his emotionless mask slipped back on. “Just a talk between ninja.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” came Mako’s eager voice behind her, “I’ll stay too. You go on ahead and make that batch before time runs out.”

Sakura snapped her head towards him, shaking her head with large eyes in silent begging, but Sasuke was the one who spoke. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can leave too.”

“He stays,” Sakura volunteered, to which Sasuke glowered at her for. “A doctor must be present during an exam, after all.” This was most definitely not professional, but Sakura had used a “time” excuse to keep Sasuke busy earlier. Mako knew as well as she did that it didn’t matter what time the Ashuwa was added to the mixture, and he was using her lie against her. She didn’t know her friend of a medic could be manipulative like that. Mako knew she didn’t want to tell Sasuke that she had fibbed about it.

Grabbing the mortar, Sakura peered up into the Uchiha’s eyes, reconsidering her fear of the two ninja meeting. If Naruto or Gaara weren’t here, maybe Sasuke was the next best person to talk to him. Now that he had come back to the light, perhaps Sasuke could reach Satou in a way that Sakura wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes people who had experienced trauma would only listen to someone who had shared a similar pain. And it had been proven to her throughout the years that sometimes only monsters could understand monsters.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke waited until Sakura’s footsteps receded far enough down the hall before his eyes locked onto Satou for the second time.

“Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke isn’t it?” Satou inquired, daring to speak first. “I never would have guessed I’d ever see your face again after the war.”

“Good. You know me.” Sasuke announced, fully entering the space and leaning against the right-most wall, just fifteen feet away from Satou in this small room. “Then you’re aware of the terrible things that I have done to better men than you.” To be honest, Sasuke hated to play the reputation card—in fact, he wanted to get as far from his past as possible, but he needed this bastard to know just exactly what he could still do to someone that pushed him far enough.

He noticed Mako shift excitedly at the left of the entrance. Apparently Mako was hoping for a show. Good, Sasuke thought, he needed to hear this too if the male physician had future plans to stay next to his friend.

Sasuke got straight to it. “The truth is that you’re not going to listen to anyone, so this is going to be a waste of time and breath.” Sasuke knew because he had been in this exact same frame of mind before.

“So why bother staying?” the man spat, rage leaking from his mouth like saliva from a rabid beast. Sasuke was correct in his analogy. Like Sasuke himself had once been, Satou was nothing more than a creature that there was no hope left for, and it needed to be taken out of this world. That’s what Gaara had practically told Naruto to do—take Sasuke out and do the right thing as his friend. It’s what Sakura had tried to do and failed.

But Naruto had done the impossible. With memories of his friend in his heart, Sasuke sighed and willed himself to put at least a little bit of effort into this for his friends’ benefit.

“For the sake of the woman you just called a whore. I care more about her and her goal than the few minutes I could be doing something more beneficial than talking to you.” Of course, he would never tell her that.

Sasuke felt like there was no point in beating around the bush. His voice would give out if he continued talking at this rate. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe any explanation, any psychological nonsense, just the cold truth that Satou needed to hear. Despite how hard he might try, Sasuke wouldn’t be able to pull this off like Naruto. Naruto would have marched up to him like a bull, grabbed his collar, proceed to threaten him for saying such a thing to Sakura, and then somehow miraculously convince this man to change.

Sasuke on the other hand, was less predictable. Depending on which part of his life you looked at, Sasuke could have had several reactions to Satou’s comment. The Sasuke before Orochimaru would have been angry but level-headed, at most offering the man an analytical glare. Sasuke immediately post-cursemark would have gutted him in the same mania he had broken that sound ninja’s arms in the Forest of Death. Vengeance-bent Sasuke would have completely not cared at all. But the Sasuke he was now? Even though he was on his path of redemption now, something in him had become honed again, sharpened along with the internal acknowledgement that he had feelings for Sakura. Despite his accepting of the truth, Sasuke hadn’t anticipated feeling this defensive and this is what scared Sasuke the most about himself—his unpredictability.

When Sasuke had tried to sever his bonds, it was to eliminate the feelings that came with them. He had seen it as a weakness. If his attachments were few, then Sasuke could remain loyal to a way of life he hoped for, one of peace. But having Sakura near again and feeling responsible for her had Sasuke fearing for the worst about his character. He had relayed this concern to Naruto before he left the village several weeks ago. “What will keep me from the darkness? From choosing the path of revenge?” “I will,” Naruto had responded. “I’ll stop you.” If men like this were regular in Sakura’s life, how could Naruto guarantee that Sasuke wouldn’t snap one day and kill every single person who threatened to do her harm? What if one of them succeeded? Could Naruto prevent everything? Stop, Sasuke told himself. Stop thinking like that.

Satou didn’t laugh again for the entire conversation. He remained standing by the window, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke in wary consideration since the Uchiha had arrived—not scared necessarily, but an enemy weighing his odds and deciding to avoid major triggers. Smart, Sasuke thought. Not completely brain dead then.

As Sasuke was consumed in silent thought, Mako stepped in for him. It was the first time all day Sasuke liked the medic. “We know that your wife died. Is that the reason you are abusing your son?”

Unlike with Sasuke, Satou revealed his temper, like a bomb going off without warning. “WHAT I DO WITH MY SON IS NOBODY’S DAMN BUSINESS BUT MY OWN.”

Unaffected by the sudden rise in volume, Sasuke surveyed the damaged room around them. Satou sure made it look like he was being held against his will, but the truth was, Sasuke realized, that if Satou had truly wanted to leave, he would have. There was nobody physically stopping him from leaving. The only thing really holding him here was Gaara’s command. Ah, so that was it. Badmouth the Kazekage all he wanted, Satou still respected one thing and that was power.

Sasuke tested the theory with, “The Kazekage believes it is his business.”

“Everything is apparently his damn business,” Satou growled in his direction.

Sasuke immediately noted that this was not a shouted response like he did when Mako spoke. Sasuke deduced that Satou held enough respect for the people he feared. That included himself. Damn. How annoying; Sasuke was going to have to do all the talking after all. To be honest, Sasuke had just wanted to remove Sakura from the situation and came up with the “talking” part to get Sakura to leave. Now, he supposed he would have to deliver.

Mako tried reasoning with him again: “Does the child remind you of your wife? Is that the reason you mistreat him?”

Satou’s eyes grew wide at Mako’s question. “HOW DARE YOU-“

Forget it. Talking like this was getting them nowhere. Sasuke’s visual prowess was nowhere near restored, but what Sasuke planned to do wouldn’t take up much chakra anyway. This wasn’t his typical style, but trying to talk with this man sure as hell wasn’t his style either. Sasuke revealed the black tomoes of his right Sharingan, instantly immobilizing the man where he stood.

“What are you doing?” Mako asked with concern, walking up beside him. “You’re not going to use a genjutsu?!”

“Just shut up and stay out of it,” Sasuke announced in annoyance. “I am getting the answers.”

Satou’s mind was a black, fiery wasteland that Sasuke stepped out on. The ninja’s memories appeared before him like colorless corpses rising from the grave. Sasuke walked forward toward the past surveying memories in order from most recent to oldest. The first memory that shaped in the air before him had Sasuke considering deactivating the jutsu. Whether he had subconsciously looking for this memory or not, Sasuke didn’t know, but he watched it play out before him. His pink-haired teammate was standing her ground, glaring up into the face of the man whose memories Sasuke violated. Sasuke frowned in hatred at the image of his fingers jabbing into her chest. Satou was looking down at her with a ferocity that he had yet to display towards anyone else. Why?

On cue, another memory emerged, connected to this one and providing Sasuke with the answer he wanted. It was during the war and Satou was immobilized on a cot, bandaged and regaining consciousness. Pink hair came into the ninja’s vision as he tried to roll to the side. “Miss,” he called toward the female ninja. “Where am I?”

“Stay still,” Sakura ordered him, pushing him back down on the cot. “Your leg is severely injured and needs to remain immobile.” She began giving orders to her assistants when a boom suddenly sounded somewhere nearby. Satou watched as she got to her feet and headed in that direction as someone began screaming her name.

“My wife,” he croaked, trying again to rise. This time, no one stopped him as he began to fumble towards the line of patients, some unconscious, others screaming. “Rina,” he sobbed, searching the faces of the incapacitated. “Where are you?”

He finally found her in the back row and he began limping faster toward her. “Rina!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the woman who was bloody almost beyond recognition. Sasuke looked away from the memory as Satou began searching with hands for the wound on her body. Somehow the woman had reopened her injury and was now bleeding through the bandaging. When Satou found it, he began to moan. Satou clutched onto his broken wife and lifted her despite his leg. He was barely able to support her as he began limping back toward the medical professionals. “Haruno!” he tried to shout after the woman who had disappeared in the rising clouds of debris and dust. “Haruno!”

When a medic finally arrived to assist him, it wasn’t the one Satou had hoped for. “Please,” he begged them. “She’s dying—bleeding out!”

Sasuke saw the man’s world shatter on his face when the medic began to shake his head after checking the woman’s pulse. “I am sorry sir. She’s already gone.”

“No!” he began to scream, picking up his wife again and limping after the woman he believed could still save her. The memory ended after Satou disappeared into the rubble screaming after someone he clearly never found.

So that was it, Sasuke realized, stepping toward a new memory that materialized in the swirling darkness. He blamed Sakura for his wife’s death.

The next memory Sasuke played was Satou returning from the war and staring into the face of the child he and his wife had left behind. Sasuke was shocked at the resemblance the child held of Rina; Sasuke witnessed Satou experience the blow of pain that came at seeing the same likeness. When the child reached for him with tears in his eyes, Satou turned away from him, covering his anguished face and stepping past the threshold. Isao’s current caretaker reached for him to relieve his father’s neglect.

Sasuke felt like he had ashes in his mouth. He was more familiar with grief than anyone, but grief affected people in different ways. Sasuke both understood and didn’t understand. He didn’t dare go further; Sasuke knew what happened next concerning the child and didn’t want to see it for himself.

Deactivating his Sharingan, Sasuke withdrew from the black backdrop of Satou’s mind.

“What did you just do?” Satou asked, sinking to the floor on his knees and holding his head, an aftereffect that had Mako looking between the two ninja in fearful concern.

Sasuke saw no point in explaining to either of them. Satou was more than aware of what just happened. “I could erase a couple of those memories,” Sasuke explained to the whimpering man on the floor who gazed up at him in anger. “Is that what you want?”

Satou hesitated before saying, “You could really do that?”

“Is that what you really want?” Sasuke asked bitterly, “for someone to reach into your mind and take away all memory of your wife or child? To dishonor the both of them?”

“No,” Satou declared at that. “Not if it will remove them from my memory. The pain— just take that away.”

“Pain is a part of life and not something I can tamper with,” Sasuke deadpanned. “If you let it, your pain will turn into darkness, consume you, and taint every aspect of your life. Your son is the only thing you have left of your wife. You should value that and cling to that as your light.”

Sasuke understood what Sakura meant earlier when she told Sasuke her conversation with Gaara about the past generation affecting the next with their toxicity. Satou didn’t repond and Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He had said what he needed to although it left the Uchiha feeling like a hypocrite.

Turning to Mako, Sasuke declared, “Send the son to the Leaf’s mental health clinic; get him as far away as you can. The child needs to be in a different environment, or he will turn out like father. It’ll give Satou some time to reconsider what’s important to him.”

Opening the door, Sasuke thought twice before exiting. “Also,” he remarked to the man who began to sob on the ground. “The next time you lay your hands on my friend, you’ll have me to deal with, not the Kazekage.”

Satou began to scream in anger, throwing things against the walls again. The door swung shut behind Sasuke and Mako, closing the prisoner in his self-made cell.

#approachingsun #approaching sun #sasuke and sakura #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #sasusakufanfiction #naruto #Naruto Shippuden #naruto fanfiction #Sakura Haruno #Sasuke Uchiha #sakura #sasuke #sakura hiden #sasuke shinden #sakura uchiha #sasusakutravel #sasusakupostwar

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harley-sunday · 5 years ago

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A Good Man Goes to War [Prologue]

Summary: Starts right after Civil War. Steve Rogers is done being Captain America and quite happy living a quiet life in a safe house somewhere in Canada. Until Thanos goes after the Infinity Stones. What happens when a good man goes to war?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (f) Could be read as reader insert.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2K

Entry for @browngirlmagic‘s writing challenge. My prompt was “Demons run when a good man goes to war.”

AN: Uh, so yeah. I thought this would be a simple oneshot, but then the backstory happened and before I knew I was over 12k words in and so had to divide into multiple parts. Oh well. It happens. Also, I have never actually finished a story before publishing it online, so you can expect regular updates :) Third, I used to big a very big Doctor Who fan and so I always wanted to do something with this prompt and so here we are! This is, I think, unlike anything I have written before, mostly because it’s not from a reader’s POV. I like it, and I hope you do too. Please let me know what you think ♥

I don’t do taglists, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

He’s not quite sure how he ended up here.

Well, he thinks then, that’s not completely true. He was there when the call was made, overhearing Fury as he asked the person on the other end of the line for a favor. There was some gentle persuasion needed and he thinks he heard Nick say something about a promise made a long time ago, but by then the former S.H.I.E.L.D. director had already walked into an empty conference room nearby and only clipped whispers of the conversation made their way to where he was waiting for a decision to be made.

The call ended soon after and the only thing he was told was that a car would come to pick him up the next morning at 5 AM and not to be late. He just nodded, which, he is sure, surprised not only him, but also Fury, because he was never really the type to agree to something that easily. He remembers being so, so tired, not just because of the events that got him here, but because of everything leading up to that and he thinks that must have had something to do with his compliance at the time.

Nick took him to an apartment somewhere downtown for the night, telling him to leave the key in the mailbox the next morning and to stay inside, reminding him there were people who’d rather see him locked up somewhere. The apartment was more a studio, a single bed hidden behind a room divider in the far corner, a small kitchen to his left and a dining table with two chairs to his right.

He wasn’t really hungry but could do with some sleep and so he laid down on the bed, a piece of paper on the wall next to him catching his eye, the handwriting on it rushed as though it was a warning and he was sure the first part of it was missing from the way the paper was torn.

..when a good man goes to war

He read the sentence over and over again, until he felt his eyes getting heavy, and then he drifted off, a restless slumber that only left him feeling more exhausted by the time his alarm went off.

The car took him to JFK Airport where he boarded a commercial flight to Toronto, and he wondered why he couldn’t have just taken the Quinjet until he realized this was, of course, the safer option. No need to compromise the location of the safe house by showing up in a stealth aircraft just because it would be easier. His disguise that day was a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap and a pair of glasses and even though there was a little boy eyeing him curiously all throughout the flight, he still doesn’t think the kid recognized him.

A smaller plane waited for him at Pearson International Airport, flying him to Thunder Bay in just under two hours. By then it was past noon and the lack of sleep from the night before started to catch up with him as he wondered how much longer he would have to travel to reach his final destination. There was someone waiting for him at the gate, leading him straight down the stairs and onto the tarmac, where he had to grab his duffel bag from a baggage trolley before following the man to one of the hangars on the far end of the airfield. By then it was raining, the gentle breeze from earlier turning into stronger gusts of wind, and he could see the dark promise of a storm starting to form somewhere on the northern horizon.

Somehow he knew the aircraft in the hangar was a Piper Turbo Arrow, with a range of almost seven hundred nautical miles, and so he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to calculate where that could possibly have him end up, but he was too tired to come up with a coherent answer. The man from earlier, who turned out to be the pilot, took his bag from him then and placed it in the hold, informing him that they had a ten-minute takeoff window or else they would have to wait for the storm to pass, and asked him if he was good to go.

They were in the sky minutes later and with the storm front slightly more to his right, he figured they were flying northwest even though that still didn’t really tell him where they were headed. He must have dozed off at some point, because it felt like only minutes later when the pilot informed him he was preparing for landing even though they had been in the air for almost two hours. As soon as they left cruising altitude they hit a bout of turbulence, the small aircraft shaking violently and the pilot joking that the storm had finally caught up with them. But they made it to the ground safely, the heavy rain hammering down on them once they excited the plane.

He thanked the pilot, grabbed his bag, made sure the phone, of which he had given the number to Tony and Tony only, was still in the pocket of his jacket, and walked over to the main building which, by the looks of it served as both the arrival and departure hall. It was empty except for what he assumed to be a janitor mopping the floors. He sat down on one of the chairs, wondering if there was another flight he would have to take and if it maybe was delayed because of the bad weather. Leaning back in his seat he stretched out his legs in front of him, closing his eyes just for a second.

There was some commotion then, as the double doors opened and a young woman stepped inside, the rain boots she was wearing making a squeaky sound on the tiled floor. She was wearing a long, yellow raincoat, and he thought she brightened up the place instantly. She pulled her hood off and apologized to the janitor for wetting the floor before she made her way over to where he was seated, rambling on about a tree on the road that made her late. She told him she was sorry, that she should have called, but that she didn’t have his number and so that she just tried to get here as soon as possible. He felt some of his weariness disappear from the way she seemed to radiate energy and so he got up instantly and took her outstretched hand, introducing himself as Steve Rogers.

She replied she already knew that, then laughed, almost like she was a little embarrassed, and told him her name with a smile, her hand warm in his. He grabbed his bag and followed her back outside, where an idling SUV, similar to the one Nick Fury used to drive, was waiting for them. He wondered if it was decked out the same way Fury’s was and if so, if she knew how to operate it. He threw his bag in the trunk and sat down on the passenger’s seat, a smile passing over his face when he saw the interior was nothing like Fury’s car, what with an air freshener popped into one of the vents and a tiny stuffed monkey hanging from the rear view mirror.

She put the car into drive and smiled up at him, and somehow he remembers a drop of rain sliding down her face when she told him it would take just under an hour for them to get home. He nodded and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the warmth inside the car and the music she had playing over the radio. A couple of minutes into the drive he caught sight of himself in the window, surprised to see the beginnings of a beard already starting to form. And even though up until now he had always been clean shaven, he decided right then and there he would keep it until, well, things were at least slightly back to normal.

Once they turned off the main road she let him know they were almost there, then, after a few minutes, pointing out the fallen tree that had made her late earlier. She muttered something about having to go back tomorrow to with a chainsaw to clear the road and he wondered just how isolated her place was. As it turned out, very.

Her log cabin was located at the very end of the road, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the last house he saw was miles away, just on the outskirts of town, and they had passed it almost thirty minutes ago. It was the perfect location for a safe house and when he told her so she agreed, even though she did admit it could get a bit lonely in the winter, when the roads would be covered in snow and it could take the snowplow weeks to reach her cabin. She was quick to assure him she liked it that way though, and that she always made sure to stock up well before winter arrived. She promised to show him the greenhouse she used to grow her own vegetables later, but that now what they needed was a some coffee and something to eat.

His stomach growled in response and so he got out of the car, admiring the two story building in front of him. It seemed fairly old, but structurally sound, and he wondered how long it had been hers. It was almost surrounded by tall green pine trees, but behind it he could see a shallow embankment that led to a lake. She motioned for him to follow her inside, out of the rain, the overhanging roof on the back porch already offering some relief. She opened the door and stepped inside, kicking off her rain boots before she lined them up on a shoe rack. Her raincoat followed suit, as she explained that the floor here had heating and so all their wet garments should be dry in no time. She didn’t wait for him, instead made her way to the coffee machine on the counter and switched it on before she walked into the living room, where she muttered something about adding some more wood to the fire.

He took it all in from where he stood, the kitchen to his left, stairs leading up to the second story right in front of him and the living room behind that. He could hear her somewhere in there, the crackling of the fire getting louder as she fed it more wood. He followed her example and untied his shoes before he put them next to hers, his jacket on one of the hooks of the coat rack, the warmth of the floor heating very pleasant.

She told him to sit down, make himself comfortable while she would make him something to eat and he watched her from the couch that was in the far corner of the room, next to the fireplace on one side and some double doors that led to the front porch on the other. The room’s decor simple yet cosy, with candles on every available surface and rows and rows of books in the bookcase across from him. She handed him a cup of coffee then and told him to be careful because it was hot. Another trip to the kitchen brought him a plate with two sandwiches, made with what seemed like homemade bread, and a slice of something sweet for her.

The coffee warmed him up even more and the first bite of the sandwich made him realize just how hungry he was. She let him eat in silence, focused on her coffee and he appreciated the gesture more than he could ever explain.

And so, even though he’s still not quite sure how he ended up here, in this cabin somewhere in Canada, he sure is glad he did.

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fanfic #ayesha1kwritingchallenge #Harley Sunday x Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers

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itsblissfuloblivion · 5 years ago

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Torch - Chapter 4: December

A/N: We are on time! Lots of holiday hi-jinks and Harry coming to terms with some feelings and stuff in his life. Hope you enjoy!

Love,

@fightfortherightsofhouseelves

@gryffindormischief

Also on FF and Ao3

Torch: a Hinny canon compliant multi-chaptered fic featuring HBP missing moments. Updates every first day of every month, from September 2019 to August 2020.

____

December roars in like a lion, harsh and unrelenting with gusting winds and ever growing snowdrifts that seem to hedge the castle’s inhabitants inside either by impassibility or impossibility . The wind chill dipped low enough that Harry nearly didn’t try to sneak out for a fly, but even as he did Filch and Madam Hooch each caught Harry on his path to the pitch. Still, he did duck their attention and sneak past the courtyard beneath his cloak.

And yet, the moment his boots crunched in the snow, Harry felt as if the cold, blustering wind chapped nearly every inch of his body, exposed or not. Disappointed and somewhat damp, Harry trooped back indoors and did his best to vanish his puddling tracks to avoid detection as well as detention. Harry feels like a bit of a ponce for laughing at his own joke but honestly he’s begun to reach the point where he can’t deny himself simple, dull pleasures when the majority of his existence feels like one self-denial after the next.

The most glaring of which, is an increasingly uncomfortable pang ringing through his chest every time he sees the swish of Ginny’s robes, his lungs draw in a breath of her scent, or she says something brilliant and cheeky. Hell, sometimes he’s sitting in the humid greenhouses listening to Professor Sprout warn them about some venomous, bloodsucking, carnivorous something or other and Harry’s mind wanders to the slant of Ginny’s smile or the delightful peal of her laughter.

And then Ron will pass him a note or just let out a snort in his sleep and Harry feels the chain of responsibility to his best mate tighten around his heart.

It wouldn’t be a betrayal in the classic sense. But risking Ron, the Weasleys, Hermione - and even Ginny herself - for the possibility of returned... feelings or whatever seems like a gamble he can’t take. Not when everything good in his life seems like it hangs from one delicate thread.

Now, as he sits across from Ron in the common room, each half-assing the chapter questions to prepare them for the next day’s Potions lesson, Harry shoves all thoughts of Ginny down low and deep so they settle like lead in his stomach. At least it feels like he can breathe again.

Which is for the best, since his Lavender-free Ron time is low and half the time when he does get it there’s some related drama that manages to worm its way in.

So when they’re nearing the end of their problem sets - with the Prince’s assist - Harry decides to take full advantage and grabs the community chess board. “How’d you like to wipe the floor with me in a game?”

Ron frowns thoughtfully. “I can always tutor you, Harry,” and then a hint of mischief teases his lips, “You’re not a total dunce.”

Kicking his shin beneath the table, Harry shoves their books and other detrius aside, settling the board on the table with a dull thud and the clatter of loose pieces.

Considering this is a community board, it’s remarkable how many pieces have remained intact and actually with the board. Plus, it’s an unspoken rule that if a student finds the board with missing pieces they are obligated to fill the empty place with something creative and magically enhanced.

Overall, they’ve just got mismatched bits from other boards and one intricate Origami-type knight that flits about the board rather than sliding like the rest.

Harry and Ron volley the first few rounds back and forth quickly, and almost as quickly Harry loses two pawns and Ron commands his full army like a proud general.

The fire crackles warmly in the grate as they continue game-play with no losses and Ron gradually enacts what Harry’s almost certain will be his undoing. It’s an odd thing because on one hand, Harry hates to lose and on the other, watching Ron in action is a sight to behold. Although the casual ‘tips’ that really sound more like taunts are going to earn him some itching powder in his sheets.

Harry’s just finally taken one pawn and from the gleam in Ron’s eye fallen right into the trap set for him, when the sickly sweet scent of Lavender’s perfume engulfs the table.

And though Ron’s hormone induced googly eyes have cleared somewhat since that fateful victory party, he still abandons Harry mid-game with promises to resume.

Leaving Harry positive that the itch powder plot will definitely be unleashed and wondering whether this is how relationships go .

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the infatuation, he wishes he didn’t to be honest, but to be so wrapped up - and to let someone be so wrapped up.

Not that it’s Lavender’s fault, but could it be right to be with someone who doesn’t recognize how important your mates are? To let someone take so much of your sense that you alienate one and ditch the other at the drop of a hat?

He doesn’t begrudge Ron fun, or a life outside of him and Hermione, but things should fit not drive a wedge. At least in Harry’s mind.

His dream girlfriend would fit in right alongside them all, bust his arse and tease Ron, love Hermione and give her a run for her money. She would - well perhaps further detail isn’t the best considering his train of thought gets narrower and narrower and it begins to become clear that his dream, his ideal, is very real and very unattainable.

____

The days until December 20, when the Slug Club Christmas Party will be upon Harry and his frail nerves (and probably so will jolly Professor Slughorn), resemble a maze filled with booby traps to Harry. In this particular case, the booby traps are laid by fellow Gryffindor Romilda Vane, by his best mates’ quarreling, by Ron snogging Lavender ostentatiously all over Hogwarts, and of course by Draco plotting his sneaky plots in full liberty because no one would simply listen .

By December 20, at precisely eight in the evening, Romilda Vane’s tried to push spiked gillywater on him, offered him probably love potion infested Chocolate Cauldrons, if what Hermione’s heard in the girls’ bathroom is correct. Hermione herself announced she’s attending the party with that McLaggen buffoon so loud that she might as well have shouted from the Astronomy Tower while Ron morphed into the pettiest version of himself by laughing at Hermione in class leaving Luna of all people as the one to comfort her back in the girls’ bathroom again.

So many things happening in that bathroom, so many stupid feelings Harry really doesn’t want to deal with.

Therefore he sends everything to hell and surprises himself by inviting Luna to the party, as friends. At least she’s a decent human being, doesn’t giggle absurdly, and is genuinely kind. At least he has that.

And the Prince. Yeah, the Prince helps more than his real life friends most of these days.

Forlorn and sighing, Harry nearly confesses his loneliness and despair to Hedwig since both friends aren’t available and Ginny’s...probably getting ready for her date with Dean Thomas. He hasn’t asked, but by now Harry’s fairly certain she’s bound to go with Dean to the Slug Club party, dance with Dean, kiss Dean.

With another sigh, Harry checks the time: 7:50 PM. Time to go.

As he enters the theatrically adorned chamber next to Luna, a crowd of girls glowering in their wake, his eyes scan the space for hints of red hair. Instead, he finds Hermione looking harassed and dishevelled, in a hurry to escape McLaggen’s less than desirable presence and attentions. He’d really love to confront her with a most heartfelt I told you so , but he’s got more pressing matters on his plate at the moment. Such as why isn’t Ginny at the party, is she alright, what did that berk do to her and also why is that slimy git Malfoy sneaking in? Isn’t he supposed to have known Slughorn since he was in nappies or some such?

If he’d ever be asked to recount what happened after Malfoy’s impromptu appearance, he’d only be able to say what he’d been saying for the past four months: that Draco Malfoy is up to something. Which apparently is not enough for anybody because the situation is as stale as before. Malfoy is indeed up to something, Snape is helping him and the world is closing its eyes and ears and letting it happen. Brilliant.

As he drags his feet back to the Common Room, Harry’s mind buzzing with the latest information, he still has half a hope that the Fat Lady will swing aside to let him in and there’ll be Ginny, alone in the armchair by the fire, studying or maybe even taking a moment to relax in spite of the ever looming OWLs.

But there’s no one waiting for him behind the portrait door and no fire in the hearth. Just the Common Room, drafty and chill, motionless and deadly quiet in the dark.

There’s no Dean either in their shared bedroom. No Ron and no Seamus. Only Neville, lightly snoring from beneath his sheets.

Perhaps they’ve all gone to a party of their own.

Perhaps they’re happy and laughing and don’t need him anymore.

Perhaps...it’s time he sleeps. After all, they’ll be leaving Hogwarts soon and there’s so much he needs to do before he boards the train.

Harry sighs, hugs the pillow closer to his chest and closes his eyes.

The train trundles over the tracks that slice through the Scottish countryside, dark against the blanket of snow continually refreshed by flurries slowly drifting from the clouds overhead.

Harry’s tried more than a few times to close his eyes for a brief rest, only to be jostled either nearly to the floor or so that his forehead slams against the chilled glass window. Even if he could find a comfortable position, his mind is still whirring with the details of Snape and Malfoy’s conversation. It had been just vague enough that no one was going to believe him. At least not enough to actually do something with the information. Nevermind that Malfoy had bashed Harry’s nose in and left him for dead or at least for severe discomfort and intense inconvenience. Harry was apparently reading into things, imagining the odd conversations and even stranger behavior, and Malfoy meanwhile was a bloody Prefect.

Honestly, it’s reached the point where it feels as if his life has no point. He tries and searches and puts himself in danger and still each year it’s a random series of events that he can’t plan or prepare for that lead to near death or - well in the worst cases there have been deaths. And for all Harry’s targeted by Voldemort and his supporters, it never feels like he’s earned the distinction by doing anything but somehow managing to stay alive.

He’s just let his forehead thud against the glass again, the cool pane easing the ever-present ache of his scar, when the compartment door slides open.

Harry’s hoping for Ron, sans Lavender and his recent bad attitude, but finds another Weasley studying him curiously.

“Hey, Gin.”

She blinks. “What’s with the face, sad man?”

Slumping lower in his seat, Harry props his legs on the opposite bench and sighs. “I just feel - do you ever - ”

He can’t quite work out the words to explain himself, not without sounding like a wingy baby or giving Ginny a dangerous amount of information. When he glances up, Ginny’s still eyeing him speculatively.

“You haven’t narrowed things down much with those little fragments,” Ginny says, lips kicking up in a wry half smile.

“It just feels like, year after year, I’m left with these huge decisions and responsibilities and people die and it’s my fault. And still no one ever believes me when I tell them shite is about to go down.”

Ginny pauses a moment before perching on the bench opposite him and smoothing her school robes. “I think - well I suppose the first thing I should like to address is the fact that none of this is ever your fault, Harry.”

Her eyes are watery and her voice is low and full of fire as she continues, gaze pinned to her dark tights. “Riddle, he - he does what he wants, when he wants, and you’re one of the far too few people who’ve recognized him for what he is and done something about it. Not sitting around the wireless and having a good long chat. You’re - you’re always out in the thick of things and risking your stupid, noble neck and if idiots like Skeeter or anyone else have shite to say about you well then - “

One angry tear escapes down her cheek, though her jaw is set firm. “Then they’ll have me to answer to, yeah?”

She chuckles darkly and shrugs, “As for nobody believing you, I’d suggest lessons from Lockhart but I suppose that’s not really feasible, eh?”

“He was fairly expert winning converts.”

There’s a pause and quiet settles between them while the Hogwarts Express rattles through the snow before Ginny rises and pats Harry’s knee. “For what it’s worth, I’m always in your corner.”

“I could be a complete nutter.”

“You haven’t been wrong yet,” Ginny says with a shrug as she grips the door handle, “Except about that weird moustache attempt at the start of October. Not good.”

Harry flushes. “Ron is a pranking arsehole.”

“Sure,” Ginny winks.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Harry manages a somewhat strangled goodbye. “Have a uh - nice time with Dean.”

Ginny’s mouth opens and closes around nothing before she smiles, almost forced seeming. “Sure. See you at home then.”

____

Like Hogwarts, the Burrow has always given Harry a very at home feeling. The smell of a fresh, steaming meal cooked with love and care, the lilt of so many laughs shared between the cramped little house’s inhabitants, the paper chains and fairy lights Ginny likes to put up every Christmas, everything gives Harry the feeling that he’s welcomed and safe.

Hermione’s presence is the only missing element to Harry, mostly in the moments they usually spent in the room beneath the attic. He can picture every detail, Hermione sitting cross legged on one of the beds, a book on her lap, Ron and Harry daring each other to another round of Exploding Snap or simply laughing - probably because Fleur said something equally snotty and funny while Mrs Weasley nearly combusted and Bill looked lovingly at his bride to be.

But Hermione isn’t here and Ron and her aren’t talking anymore. Harry doesn’t want to complain, Ron’s his best mate and all, but Lavender just gifted him a ghastly Won-Won locket for Christmas and if Ron’s too daft to put a stop to this then someone really should.

In all fairness, Kreacher’s maggots aren’t that appalling right now.

Or maybe they are and Harry’s just a bit sour that his best mate and his girlfriend are gross, who knows.

Still, when Harry lightly jokes about this with Ginny because he can’t really help himself and he’s long since stopped denying himself the simple pleasure of...conversing with her (and perhaps peeking to see if Dean’s sent her anything for Christmas - a failed mission, Ginny’s much too careful and private), her only reaction is:

“Don’t you dare knock some sense into him. This is too entertaining to stop so soon.”

And the mischievous grin on her face as she says it is what truly does Harry in: he accepts that he either blurts out his feelings or combusts from the pressure of keeping everything mashed up inside his chest.

Thankfully, it’s Bill who saves him from something that could have easily become Harry’s single most embarrassing memory by calling them both to help with Christmas dinner preparations.

Ginny marches down with a roll of her eyes and a snide comment, while Harry feels lighter somehow and so very thankful.

Before he steps out of the living room however Bill’s hand falls steady on his shoulder.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, looking Harry in the eye for a beat.

Harry’s left to wonder what to say, if he intended to convey what Harry thinks he did, and finally how did he guess...

It’s funny how other people can read your heart in an instant when it takes you months to even begin to realise. Life’s funny like that. Harry’s life at least.

When Harry reaches the cosy dinner party, he’s pushed in a chair between Fleur and Ron, the latter’s mouth already full with what seems to be a bite of what each platter has to offer. The table’s an impressive blend between mouth-watering smells and the clatter of forks and knives, the hearth crackling invitingly in the background, the room lit with candles upon candles perched on lampads serenely floating by magic.

Turkey, roast potatoes, stuffing, pigs in blankets, Yorkshire Pudding, gravy, Brussel sprouts, cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding, and mince pies, all garnish the Weasley family table as the wireless plays lowly (sans Celestina Warbeck tonight) and they eat and talk and feel merry.

“Is Hermione not joining us, dear?” Mrs Weasley asks the room at large although, to Harry, her question seems pointed.

Ron coughs briefly into his plate, grunts something akin to a “No” as Ginny takes her time rolling her eyes for a dramatic effect.

“She was - er, busy,” Harry half-asses an excuse as he generously dips another bite of turkey into a nice serving of gravy.

“What I’d give to be sixteen again and starting a relationship,” Mrs Weasley chuckles, her eyes glazed over, mind already down memory lane.

“What would you give, Molly dear?” Mr Weasley teases.

“Oh, I don’t know, but remember the thrill of seeing each other in Hogsmeade, Arthur? Nothing compared to those weekends. Ah, so lovely being young and in love,” she smiles, rising to bring another plate full of steaming hot turkey.

And perhaps it’s not just Harry who notices the ill looking shade on Ron’s face and that his fork hasn’t scooped any bites for a good couple of minutes.

“How’re things with that Dean Thomas guy, little sis?” Bill changes the topic, casually asking over the dinner table and Harry can swear he’d seen him wink in his general direction.

Ginny simply shrugs, “None of your business.”

“Now come on, Ginny,” Fred grins.

“We’re only looking after you, as responsible big brothers,” George continues.

“No need,” she drawls between two spoonfuls of pudding.

“We heard he’s a good flyer,” George pipes up, grinning dangerously.

“But does he have any other qualities?” Fred wiggles his eyebrows.

Ginny pauses, looks them both in the eyes and mutters, “Plenty.”

To be completely honest, Harry was expecting a furtive glance or maybe a different answer - perhaps a merge between “He’s a terrible kisser” and “I’ve dumped him.”

Instead a simple word, plenty , is what makes his food come back with haste and it takes all his willpower to fight it back. Plenty.

He’s now joined Ron in the ill looking, besotted fools’ corner, unable to eat another bite because suddenly everything tastes like bleach down his throat. Always together like the best mates they are, eh.

Plenty .

And it all goes further down spiralling at lightning speed when Percy, as pompous as ever, trots in importantly, the Minister at his tails.

Harry can’t recall exactly when everybody’s retreated to their rooms, Mrs Weasley a mess of tears and hiccups, Mr Weasley looking broken hearted and all their children feeling angry and ready to throw a punch up Percy’s nose. Hell, Harry feels the same and him and Percy aren’t even related.

The following five days leading up to the New Year are somewhat tamer, freestyle Quidditch (Christmas themed), listening to Bill and Fleur swap stories from Egypt and France, and Exploding Snap tournaments with a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes twist included. Learning about Veelas and curse breaking amongst century old mummies of former pharaohs is more interesting than Harry’d ever guessed and he can’t help but think that both Bill and Fleur might fit better in an Indiana Jones movie than crammed in a small cottage in Devon.

Which is a slightly peculiar thought considering he himself has always hated the spotlight but somehow some of the Weasleys seem to belong there, to dazzle, to impress effortlessly.

Ginny, for instance, she’s...a superb flyer. She’d belong nowhere better than on a pitch, kicking arse and smart-mouthing everyone around her, wild red hair flying all over, impish smile widely flashing.

Ginny. Unwillingly he’d found himself around her a great deal more since that little “plenty” thing. As if she’s sought him again and again, as if to show him that perhaps she didn’t mean it like it sounded.

But then again why wouldn’t she? Dean is her boyfriend, as Harry’d been so bluntly reminded not five days before.

Still, whenever he does find a cosy spot on the couch, there’s Ginny next to him. At the table, his elbow bumps into hers as they eat, exchanging looks and jokes unspoken. Before bed, her eyes linger just a second longer, her fingers fiddling, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

And as they celebrate the New Year - ah, Harry believes he needs a good old crowbar over the head because she’s beautiful, her deep brown eyes filled with sparks and colours as the fireworks crash and collide in the night sky, and he’s insane enough to stand next to her. He’s such a fool.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

She looks up at him, eyes big and waiting.

Seven.

Six.

His heart beats faster.

Five.

Four.

Three.

“Harry…”

Two.

“Would you...?”

One.

Her hands clasp at the back of his neck, her temple flush against his chest, against that heart that can’t stop beating and he sits there like a sad, sad fool as Ginny slowly dips her head to look him in the eyes.

She’s impossibly beautiful, flowery scent intoxicating his brain.

“Harry, do you promise me?”

He has no idea what she’s asking him to promise, but he is completely certain he’d even promise her the moon if only she’d ask for it.

“What we talked about on our way home. On the train.”

What they talked about…? Oh.

“Promise you’ll stay away from danger this year, that you’ll fight that noble impulse of yours? Bugger Malfoy or Snape or anyone else, just stay safe, Harry, please,” she whispers, arms still around him and Harry hopes she’d hold him like that forever.

Forever only lasts a second and not more sometimes because as soon as he nods, she’s gone with another glance full to the brink with something so intense and yet with absolutely nothing.

Happy New Year, Harry. You’re still all alone and very lonely.

#itsblissfuloblivion writes torch #itsblissfuloblivion writes #hinny hbp fic #hinny fic #harry x ginny #harry potter x ginny weasley #ron weasley #hermione granger #bill weasley

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stardew-imagines-me · 5 years ago

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in your high-school au How would a conversation go between the old Gardner President and the farmer go?

The old garden president (OGP) loved the gardens and the school just as much as the farmer does. In fact the old garden president was a huge influence in the top 12; he was very kind when Shane was dealing through some issues and supportive when Penny was trying to find a place to stay for the night away from her mom.

The OGP was very close with the top 12, if you know what I mean, and from time to time, he’ll come around to the school for a little visit. Sadly, you are often compared to the skills that he had originally, though you two are quite different in that sort of area.

With all that background information, you find it hard to like the OGP; feeling just slightly jealous and annoyed when it came to the topic of the garden presidents.

When you two finally meet, it’s an awkward exchange. A sort of bittersweet that’s both left you a little flustered, and the others a little worried.

•

You had been down in the courtyard, working in the greenhouse when it struck you that you hadn’t even had time to talk to any of the top 12. Not that they weren’t busy themselves, but you knew they would get worried whenever you’d ignore all social interaction with students to water some plants.

It wasn’t normal for at least one of them to scout you down and demand a life update.

You quickly finish up with the garden and make your way out of the greenhouse, hands covered in dirt, face smudged and a leaf clinging to your hair.

As you enter the school, and walk down the desolate halls, you wonder if it would just be best to text them.

That is, until you hear laughter.

It’s coming from one of the labs, the usual one that Maru works in. That’s also weird. Usually when school ends, Maru locks the lab up so she can work unbothered for a few more hours. But there the door is, wide open and humming with amused voices.

You make your way to the doorframe slowly, peeking in. You’re surprised to find nearly all the 12, save for Shane and Sam.

Maru is laughing, bent over and wiping tears from her eyes as Emily and Alex excitedly talk about whatever with a tall, white haired man. He’s got a kind face, and soft spoken voice. You’ve never seen him before, especially with such a hair color, but you watched for a few seconds as even Sebastian is joking around with him.

It’s until Haley spots you in the doorway does the attention from him travel to you. It happens so fast you want to shy away, especially with the man whose looking you over with a confused look.

“Hey! We were just talking about you,” Abigail bubbled, walking over to grab your hand and pulling you into the middle of the room.

“Boari, this is the new garden president!” Leah said, slapping a hand against your back and smiling proudly.

“They took really good care of the garden when they transferred,” Penny replied with a happily, her small voice just a little louder. Funny, she isn’t like that with anyone else.

“Yeah, I swear, they must be a plant whisperer,” Alex joked.

Boari looks you over once more hesitatly before offering an unsure smile and nodding his head. You do the same, not even bothering to shake the hand he has held out because you just can’t shake the feeling he doesn’t like you.

It’s an awkward pause for a few seconds and the tense between you two sharpens. You haven’t spoken a word yet, and you don’t want to but you know that Elliot and Harvey would scorn you later for being impolite.

“Hi,” you put on your own obviously fake smile and Boari looks at Sebastian and Emily uncomfortably.

“I’m the old gardening president, ha. Looks like the garden chose you,” Boari tries, but your eyes narrow towards him.

You know it’s petty to be upset with someone you haven’t even met, but he was the initial reason people didn’t particularly agree with you becoming the garden president in the first place. And the constant comparison everyday. It isn’t his fault he was there before you, but it’s insult to injury seeing everyone happy with the person you replaced.

Everyone is starting to finally notice the weird vibe in the room and before Harvey can open his mouth to say something, Sam and Shane come through the door with freshly baked cupcakes and a few bags of chips. Even Shane is smiling.

You didn’t want to stay, especially since Boari soaked up the attention with soft words and a sweet smile, but Emily and Leah had trapped you unknowingly for the next hour, living you sitting at a lab table picking at the dirt between your nails and searching for any escape possible.

The whole time Boari side eyed you and you did everything in your power not to walk out on the small little get together.

It was only until Boari finished with his 6,000th story about all the great times he had with the 12 did you finally get up abruptly, smile at him stiffly, waved a quick goodbye and all but dash out of the school.

#sdv #sdv au #sdv highschool au #sdv imagines #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sdv elliot #sdv shane #sdv sam #sdv alex #sdv penny #sdv emily #sdv maru #sdv leah #sdv abigail #sdv haley

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everly-kindred · 5 years ago

Text

Eve’s Diary - Entry #58

Date: 9th of April, 2020

Dear Diary,

Well… Saturday was absolutely mad. Where do I begin...

I guess we’ll start with the assembly. The professors were all acting kinda funny at first, and then the Headmistress started giving announcements. Slytherin’s Head of House stepped down because I guess he has a baby now, which makes sense, and now Professor Rask is the Slytherin Head of House. And then they were talking about the easter egg hunt, but I sort of lost track of everything, because I began having visions...

I saw the forest, and a unicorn, and blood and fire. I sort of tuned back into what the Headmistress was saying, and she said that the ministry was raiding the forest, because there was a criminal within it, infiltrating the students. She said we were locked in the long gallery for our safety.

The ground started shaking and we saw flashes of light coming from the forest. And then I started having visions again. I saw Hogsmeade burning, and I saw this unicorn… It was like… Running around and fighting or something? And there was a wizard on top of her, riding her while fighting giant spiders… Eventually, she died, and I saw that, too. It… made me the most sad I think I’ve ever felt.

The shield… thing they had put around the castle on the grounds shattered, and it looked like these huge shards of light in the sky. That was when the professors went down onto the grounds, to offer support.

Hogsmeade really was burning. I had been sticking close to Bonnie most of the time, but she left me with this clockwork unicorn while she went to help fight the fires. Eventually, we all had a sort of… sleep over party in the long gallery. They summoned up sleeping bags and we had dinner there and such. Bonnie was gone for a while, but the unicorn stayed with me. I like that unicorn a lot. It was next to me the whole time.

The next day, the Headmistress had us wear our nicest… tea… dress? For Sunday lunch. We came to the great hall, and they had turned it into a forest with picnic baskets everywhere for a little tea party. O’Keeffe said it was too muddy to do it out on the grounds. I love when they transform the Great Hall, honestly, it reminds me of the great wonders of magic, how far it can truly go.

We had a moment of silence for those who died in the raid. Thankfully, none of our professors or the other students were harmed or killed. Though, there were some students who were talking during the moment of silence, so O’Keeffe seemed definitely peeved about that, and said she was taking points from those she spotted talking.

Anyways though, it was a nice little lunch. I sat with Marigold and August. Marigold said all of Hogsmeade burned down, along with Honeydukes, but that her Aunt Taffy made it out okay with all of her pets. That was good news, at least. And for awhile, we talked about how to use magic to rebuild. I pointed out that you couldn’t just transfigure ash to stone and wood again, because you’d constantly have to keep the spell updated. It would eventually wear off. But you can use magic to easily move materials, at least.

So yeah. That was what happened this weekend. We’ve been kinda just… going back to life as normal ever since, which feels a little wrong. That whole thing was… scary. And I feel really kind of… tired and careless ever since? Like I might just be going through the motions. It gets better day by day, though.

I had quidditch practice later on Sunday and I think I’m getting better at catching the snitch. I hope so, anyways. I think Nate said our next game is in a month… I’ve got my fingers crossed that I can finally win one for my team this time. I need to keep practicing, though.

I went to Durmoney’s herbology class with Marigold. We learned about valerian roots and fanged geranium, though I don’t remember a whole lot about the plants. I was still in a bit of a daze. Sort of have been all week, really. Like I said, though, it’s getting better. Marigold accidentally found a frog in her plants and ended up throwing it across the greenhouse, and it landed in front of me. It wasn’t hurt thankfully, and I let it back outside where it goes.

We had Defense Against the Dark arts with Vikander, where we were to practice the wand motions, incantation and intention for the boggart-banishing spell. I practiced with a boy named Oleander. It was very strange, because Professor Cavanaugh came out of the little office at the top of the stairs in the corner of the room, and he shook hands with Vikander, and then later on at dinner, we all learned that he was leaving to focus on his wife and his baby which is coming soon. It was really… emotional and kind of sweet at the same time, like a scene from a movie, watching him fly off into the night in his colourful suit. He’s such a cheerful man, and I hope he has a wonderful life with his family. I’ll miss his classes - and those crab friend things whose names escape me at this moment.

In astronomy, it was the full moon on Tuesday, so we learned about the moon and played a game with these giant ball things where we had to determine where the moon’s position with the earth and the sun would be for certain phases. It was fun to watch, but I didn’t really do much to be helpful.

In transfigurations with banks, we learned a spell called orchideous which is used to conjure flowers from your wand. I went with that other first year, Arthur, but he seemed to get upset by something and was sort of… well he looked like he was crying? Anyways, at the end of class, we went into the dueling room because the older students were practicing transfigurations in dueling with Bonnie, and it just looked like… pure chaos in there.

In artificer club, Bonnie had us sorting out rubble to donate to Hogsmeade for the rebuild. My wand didn’t really want to cooperate with me, so I was sort of useless there, too. She’s also set up a donations box for stuff to donate to Hogsmeade, and I think I’m going to donate some of my stuffed animals for the children who live there and also my pocket money. I don’t have a whole lot in the way of donating, but I hope it makes someone happy, you know?

In dragonology we talked about what you should do if you see a dragon in a crowd of muggles. In this specific scenario that Eastwood gave us, it was a baby dragon on Notre Dame. Everyone talked about their ideas but the professor said the best thing to do was to find a way to call the Ministry to come take care of it. Casting spells, luring it, all that was apparently a bad idea, which makes sense to me.

And then yesterday I had herbology with Dracheblume, and we learned about dittany and floo. Did you know floo powder comes from plants? And the professor said that the way to make floo powder is a closely guarded secret, and that the people who have tried to do it have gone missing, gotten injured or even died trying to figure it out. From failed attempts, I mean. I don’t think the owner of floo powder is out here killing people. I hope not, anyways!

So yeah, that’s been… what’s been happening. Lately, the frogs and crickets have been singing at night, so I like to open the windows in the common room to listen to them, or put on my wellies and go walk around on the grounds. It feels a lot more… still out. The forest is burnt, and needs to heal. It’s a very odd feeling that I’m not sure how to describe.

Anyways, I suppose I should get ready for classes today.

Much love, Everly

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#harry potter #diary #witch #magic #hufflepuff #magical #witchy #witchcraft #hogwarts #mischief managed #secondlife #second life

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years ago

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alright well i work best under pressure so given that i now have an hour and 20 minutes before i start a voice call with someone i think it’s the perfect time to do that one video analysis so i can actually start finishing up that maya post... man i really should’ve pumped that shit out earlier, but i kept procrastinating until we got new info. then more new info. and i mean we DO have lots of new updated info, bc i have a whole thing in there about Punk girl i gotta edit out now lmao

anyway

Zane Flynt? this trailer killed me, it’s the only thing i’ve watched all day. like. on repeat.

ive said it before and ill say it again, 3 months ago i call zane attractive on reddit and get ridiculed but then we find out he’s an irish bastard and everyone jumps on the fuck train

anyway

elpis is looking good and not explody/teleporty, so that’s always a good sign

so the locale plus the twang immediately had me thinking of lynchwood but that’s not right

the bar itself looks a lot like that mine area we see, so i’d be willing to guess it’s nearby, you know, if it’s an area in the game at all lmao

like the windows are similar plus the wood

the bar itself is giving me some mixed signals here, but im gonna bet it was taken over by the CoV from the crimson raiders (recruitment banner, but then the CoV logo is on the wall/screen over there)

That, plus the rose on the counter next to Zane seems sus

another mine looking building in the back

also lmao

it’s time to enter the BONEEEE ZONNEEE

no more DAHL dumpsters? F

okay this area looks super familiar

that plus the varkids, this is 100% the same place as this

which is interesting

looks like Zane’s been hanging out on Pandora for a while... kinda upset we didn’t hear about his brothers at all in this trailer, but it was still fuckin hilarious and well worth the wait

those canisters? vats? look like the ones near the burger launcher vid hang on

also some in the back here

so yeah more than likely the same area

also

`lines up the perfect shot`

`completely missed both shots`

lovey, bravo, champagne, sloooow clap

anyway i’d wager this is an old dahl mining camp? probably mining for iridium

you can see the

conveyor belt thingie here

and also all the minecarts and rails are very reminiscent of the caustic caverns

which probably would have dropped iridium into the vat below it, if said vat wasn’t tipped over onto its side

more shots of the building he’s in

closeup of the rails. which, weird as it sounds, is really great to see because sometimes in bl2 and even tps when you got super close up to a texture, it wouldn’t look too hot, even on the best settings. the textures in 3 are so CRISP i love them

varkid 🤮 i hate bugs. model looks fantastic tho! i just... hate bugs

see the camera is flipped upside down, so miles this cultist is not falling, he’s rising- he’s being lifted up

how nice

im getting percy jackson flashbacks here. this is 100% how clarisse shoved percy into the toilet, right?

with the way the cultist isn’t even trying to get out im afraid zane just shoved a corpse into the dook hut. i mean all the power to ya, man

he’s stuck

also

this building in the back is new

i won’t say it

you know what im thinking

i won’t say it

i promise

~smile~

there’s also what i think is a smiley face sticker on the wall to his right

water physics lookin fine 👌

also the way zane jumps back. bonelesspotter i know you read these, are you picking up what i’m putting down?

MAGIC CUP MAGIC CUP ALL HAIL

see the lack of drink is supposed to parallel hi s lack of companio- im sorry hahahaaha i can’t do this

rose. it’s a SIGN

there’s so much going on in the background here lemme just

im sitting here like >:( because i know i’ve seen that type of wall before and for the life of me can’t remember where

my brain is screaming sanctuary

the actual middle piece looks super familiar

is that what they attach the out of bounds turrets to? possibly.

this bit

also it looks like there’s a dam or something in the back back?

tbh im a lot more interested in the skyway all the way at the top, it reminds me a lot of bloodshot ramparts

cuz it also used to be a skyway

also zane is doing his pose for the main menu screen of the game

and i would say it’s possible this could’ve been the main menu, but the cliff is different, and there’s supposed to be a boxcar/shipping crate on the right (as when u go to options it moves over to it)

more vats! what is the deal with this mine? why is it featured so heavily in this video gearbox tell me your s e c r e t s

you’d think, with zane being the one who’s been around the proverbial block over his years, he’d be on multiple planets throughout his entire trailer. but like 80% of it is pandora. maybe the other VHs are getting featured on other planets? at least he has a reason to be on pandora outside of the main story (maybe looking for his brothers, maybe trying to piss on their graves, who knows)

i don’t know what he’s reaching for but uh

perhapeth the blades are activated by swinging his arm out? could be a hold over from when they were like... actual metal blades and needed to be knocked out into position

i love that he returns the wave after shoving this guy off the cliff

it’s not like he can see you man

go off i guess though

some bar on eden-6 (finally! a new planet!) also i like that the theme here is zane getting into fights in bars. good shit boys

get wrecked kid

i really like the design of this building. i love the windows. maybe part of jakobs manor? looks like maybe it’s a greenhouse or smth given it’s in this garden/courtyard area

which should look somewhat familiar

looks very similar to this area, but it doesn’t look like there’s a building on the left in this shot. maybe they added it in for the trailer 🤷‍♂️

the trees behind the big one (and next to the iron wrought fence) match up perfectly tho

i just really like this shot ngl

i love these fuckign expressions i cant

Friend

okay im sorry here’s a smiley boy

the facial animations are so fucking good this time around

that is all i am doing.

just appreciating the new animations.

SOMEONE HELP THIS TINY MAN HE’S TRAPPED IN A SQUARE

fuck dude we didn’t deserve this man

MAGIC CUP MAGIC CUP ALL HAIL

seriously tho, the glass is gone. idk where it went. im just gonna pretend he was practicing that one iconic Kingsman scene while talking to himself and providing us with flashbacks

manners.

maketh.

man.

also this is my new favorite reaction image

it’s ‘perfect in every way’

you want more booze?

what are your thoughts on the new guns?

where’d you hide the body?

(it’s in the dumpster)

also unlike the magic cup

the rose is still here

Cultist coming to see why the windows of their bar are glowing neon yellow and blue im sure

>shit

it’s cool to know the clone can actually emote

given in the So Happy Together it was basically an expressionless blue demon

still no cup. all hail

some more CoV graffiti!

boops

i am sad we didn’t get to see zoomer in this video at all

zoomer is cute

i like zoomer

anyway

that’s all for the trailer folks

i love the implication that he’s just sitting in this empty CoV bar, talking to himself, waiting for someone to notice and come confront him so he can kick their asses.

anyway this post 100% wasn’t an excuse to rewatch the entire trailer frame by frame or anything

maya post coming soon! wahoo

also i have 10 minutes left lmao nice

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #bl3 #zane flynt

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victorluvsalice · 10 months ago

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Welcome to the first Chill Valicer Save update of 2024! Where we discover that the gang is a few months ahead of us in the calendar and already celebrating Egg Day. :p However -- before we get into that, we first have to cover a mini-update I did before playing through Egg Day proper, where I took a crack at updating the house a little bit! I'd hoped to do a bit more with replacing furniture and such, but ended up deciding to hold off until after Christmas/my birthday (when I received the cashola to buy Horse Ranch and Home Chef Hustle) when I'd have more options. Here's what I did manage to update, though:

A) I took all the new plants out of Smiler’s inventory (black bean, soybean, coconut, pineapple, noxious elderberry, poison fireleaf – as it turns out, I didn't need them to buy a pomegranate as we already had a pomegranate tree), plus the spare planter that Victor made way back when from the household inventory, plopped all those in the greenhouse, and started rearranging! I now have all of Smiler’s herbalism stuff together, with the noxious elderberry and poison fireleaf next to their counterparts; all the veggies together; all the fruits together (with the pineapple next to the dragon fruit); all the flowers together; the soybean and black bean in the new planter; and the coconut in the empty patch in the orchard. So basically everything is now grouped a lot better. I may still rearrange the planters themselves in the future so certain types of plants are closer to the crafting stations that use them (like putting all flowers near the flower-arranging bench), but at least now all the similar plants are grouped together properly! Oh, and while I was in there, I tried replacing the "stuck" juice fizzer (that was permanently displaying a "ready to collect" screen with nothing in it) with a new one, just so the gang had one at home if they wished to use it. I later discovered that the new one ended up "stuck" too, but at least I tried?

B) I replaced both the upstairs and downstairs litter boxes with the fancy kind that shoots lasers to automatically vaporize cat poop. XD Hey, look, the family can afford it, and it saves them having to clean the litter boxes.

C) I recolored Moory’s shed to some cheerier colors after being like “why would THIS FAMILY, of all families, go with a beige cow shed” – now it’s bright yellow! Isn't that nicer?

D) I replaced the toilet and sink in the downstairs bathroom with more expensive versions – with decorative slots, so I could put a soap dispenser on the sink. :) I was going to do the same upstairs, but ran into a problem because the two bathrooms have very distinct color schemes, and I’m not sure the toilet and sink combo I used downstairs would fit with either...have to ponder that one a bit more!

E) I penned in Toothy – which involved MOVING Toothy to the other side of the front yard, by the tree in the left-hand corner and the wind farm, because as it turns out cowplants need surprisingly big pens. Possibly because Sims have to stand a certain distance away from them to feed and play with them. If I’d left Toothy in its usual spot, I wouldn’t have had any way to get to the pet obstacle course in the corner by the kitchen. I’m still not ENTIRELY happy with the placement, but it’ll do for the moment, and it means Toothy is now cut off from anyone who can’t get through the gate – which is anyone but household members. *nods*

F) And this one I didn't get a good shot of (though you'll see it in a future update) – I copied one of the grouped photo frames I got from that family reunion I did a little bit back and put some of Victor and Alice’s honeymoon photos from Selvadorada in there. It looks nice (even if I still have a couple of spare photos that have to be arranged around the grouped frames), but I still need to decide how to handle all the photos they’ve got hanging around. I’ve been thinking that I should maybe cull a few so they have more space on their walls and perhaps look a touch less narcissistic...but the problem there is, I personally love the photos, so I don’t know if I could bring myself to delete them. *sigh* We SO need “photo albums” in the this game. Give me a book object that you can put photos in, and that when you click on it, plays a little slideshow of the photos, and I will be CONTENT.

#sims 4 #the lazy save #as you might expect #since it's past Christmas and I DID buy Horse Ranch and Home Chef Hustle using my parents' cashola #there's another farmhouse update coming in the future XD #but first we have to cover what I actually played over December #and this was a pretty good start when it came to a makeover I think!#it gave me great pleasure to organize that greenhouse #it really needed it #little sad Toothy couldn't stay in its usual place but I really thought the pen was a good idea #now I don't have to worry so much about wandering NPCs approaching #and yes I know that it's kind of ironic that I recolored the cow shed because 'why would they go with beige'#and then kept the downstairs bathroom entirely beige XD #to be fair I think the bathroom being beige is kinda funny #I might add a little more color in the form of artwork later #you'll notice the bathrooms upstairs are colored in accordance with everyone's favorite colors though #the beige one is for the public :p #they can deal with it #queued

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hptruefan-cheekytorah · 5 years ago

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Nano-vember | The Glue

Part XX & Part XXI

⚠️ Warning: sexual content !!!!

Today I promised a triple feature.... here is one part of that triple feature! I know you’ve all been aching for his POV so here it is! ❤️😊

Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement and praise, I live for your comments! Your love is my energy!

Tag List: @drarryruinedme7 @keyflight790 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @dewitty1 @hdanalyst @moose-1967 @slytherin-queen07 @maltters

Thank you to the very wonderful @keyflight790 for Beta Reading this story! ❤️❤️

If anyone else would like to be tagged for updates please let me know!

The Glue Masterlist <- Clicky

Read Parts 1-16 on Ao3 <- Clicky

~*~

Part XX

The end of November was quickly approaching, and his Venomous Cicuta Maculata would need to be transplanted and their venom extracted for Draco to make healing potions for the Infirmary. Magic was such a beautiful thing, able to take something as deadly as Cicuta and make something that heals.

That was just like Draco. Taking the dark and making it light. He never would have said that if someone had asked him thirteen years ago. Even ten years ago. Not even five years ago when they all started working together. Over time, Draco had grown on Neville like Hedera Colchica, like an ivy fighting for purchase on any surface it could find. Once he had taken root, well, Neville was a goner.

Not unlike Harry in that regard. Harry had captured Neville’s heart when they were but children, unaware of the war beginning around them. The same year that Neville discovered his love for Herbology, he realized he was half gone for Harry Potter. Of course, he couldn’t ever tell Harry, not with his obliviousness to his interest in Draco, or sights being set on Cho then Ginny. When Harry started seeing Draco, Neville should have felt anger or resentment for Draco’s mere presence, but how could he when he understood. Draco was snarky, kind and absolutely hilarious. Sure, he was sharp and prickly, but Neville saw through it all.

Of course, where Draco was prickly, Harry was easily angered. Where Draco was sharp, Harry was dry. The two both complemented one another and brought out the worst in each other. Neville felt like he was constantly playing referee in their relationship. Which was painful to say the least, but he loved them both. He’d do anything to see them happy. Merlin, he was a self-sacrificing idiot.

Luna would encourage him, Rolf repeatedly called him an idiot in love with idiots, and Oliver, well he would just shove Neville and tell him to ball up. Prat. The friendship he had with Draco and Harry was certainly more important than telling either of them how he felt. He could never tear them apart, he’d hate himself forever. Draco was jealous and possessive and Harry could be just as bad, though he might listen a bit more and pretend it didn’t bother him as much as it did Draco.

Neville had been so lost in his thoughts that he found himself unlocking Greenhouse five with muscle memory, hardly seeing the plants in front of him as he made his way to the Cicuta in the back. Greenhouse five was off limits to all students, it was filled with dangerous and rare plants and flowers, worth thousands of Galleons. Some just brushing against the skin could cause a reaction that would make a human so horribly sick, Poppy would likely have them bedridden for a month.

Neville took his time, walking carefully through the plants and collected the poison quickly from the Cicuta plant before he locked back up and headed back towards the castle to deliver the poison to Draco himself. He gripped the vial tightly in his hand, and made his way to the dungeons. He could hear Harry and Draco arguing well before he even got to the door and smiled to himself. Their bickering brought a feeling of peace to Neville that he probably never would fully understand. They just felt like home to him.

He pushed the slightly ajar door fully open. The two turned towards him and Neville saw both their faces light up. Pushing his curiosity of the new reactions they seemed to both have around him lately, away, he smiled crookedly and waved the vial in the air.

“Welcome back you two.”

Welcome home, he thought to himself. Merlin, how he wanted to be their feeling of home too.

~*~

Part XXI

The week had been long and tiring, his Devil’s Snare in Greenhouse fifteen was acting up, and some of the other, slightly less, sentient plants were as well. He had woken up this morning to four of his semi-sentient Socratea Exorrhiza from the Forbidden Forest had up and walked onto Hogwarts grounds. He found the walking palm trees chasing a few first years and waving their wide leaves violently at any unsuspecting owl that had the misfortune of flying over them.

He spent the rest of the day herding fifty foot tall walking palm trees back to their spots in the forest, charmed to be the exact temperature of the Amazon from which they are native to. He put up a few extra wards before he wandered back to his chambers and slipped his aching body into the shower. He was covered in dirt, and tender spots where the palms had kicked him with their thick roots.

Letting his mind wander he thought about Harry and Draco, their casual touches and the heated looks they would give each other sometimes. The press of Harry’s hand on Neville's arm, the feel of Draco’s on his shoulder. Wondered what Harry would look like under his robes, sure he had seen Harry as a teenager naked. They shared showers and dorms for years, but he was a man now. His thoughts ran away from him, picturing Harry bending Draco over his DADA desk, Draco’s robes pulled up and his trousers pushed down revealing lace panties. Not that Neville knew if Draco had any such garment, but he could picture how beautiful the delicate fabric would look on Draco’s pale skin.

He knew this was wrong, picturing his two of his best friends, but he couldn’t help himself as he took his length in hand and pulled quickly in time with the images in his head. Images of Harry pounding into Draco, running his hands all over Draco's body, finishing inside him with a shout. Neville released all over the shower door and tiled floor.

Panting, he leaned back against the cool wall, still fondling his soft cock and his balls. He wanted to come again already, the thoughts of Harry and Draco still invading his mind and his senses. Just wanted to actually touch them, feel them, kiss them. Minutes later he was hard and leaking again, aching for release. He slipped a couple fingers inside himself, relishing in the burn and thrust deep while pulling and twisting on his length the way he liked.

“Fuuu- Harry-” he moaned. “Mmm Draco.”

He imagined them both, Harry fucking him from behind while Draco sucked him into his luscious mouth. He came loudly, both their names falling from his lips as he saw white and almost fell from the power of it.

Merlin, they were attractive, good men, and Neville was mad about them both. He was completely screwed.

#neville longbottom #drarryville #drarry #hp #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry squad #drarry gang #triad #poly triad #love #drarryville love

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succygirl · 6 years ago

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Im moving into an apartment soon and will be able to have plenty of succulents and other plants again! One problem I always had was propogating... Id pop off the babies and lay them out, but theyd shrivel before they grew roots. Lay them on soil, same thing. Stick them in the soil and theyd seem to last longer, but wouldnt grow and eventually died after a couple weeks... Can you give a guide in how you grow new succulent babies?

Sure! I honestly don’t do much, though. (read more because I’m picture happy)

A lot of the time I’ll pull the leaves off and leave them laying around in my bathroom for awhile. My bathroom ends up being my work station a lot, I have counter space, it’s easy to clean up, and staying warm is a big thing for me so being inside is great. They don’t get any direct light in there mostly just indirect.

I find indirect light for a time when they’re first pulled helps, too much light and they have to work too fast to keep from using up their inner water reserves and succulents really aren’t the fastest of growers.

They might stay there a few days to a few weeks. It depends on if I’m pulling leaves from a cutting that I just brought home or not. Anything I just brought home gets to stay there for awhile in quarantine. I’ll spray them with a water/alcohol solution when I first get them to hopefully kill any bugs and then wait around to see if any bugs do pop up that I need to keep spraying for. Sometimes they’ll be there so long they start sprouting roots there, which is fine, they then get put under my grow light onto some dry soil (which you want gritty, gritty is key. Just as gritty as you’d use for adult succulents. The following pictures will show my soil mix a lot, do take notice of it.)

My Grow light set up. Putting them on the bottom shelf under my grow light would be akin to putting them in a sunny window with direct light, I think. The top shelf if definitely more intense and is more like being outside with no window glass blocking any light. If something needs more light than it’s getting at the bottom shelf the props I like the best get moved up to the higher shelf if I have room. Otherwise I now put them outside in my greenhouse.

Larger leaves get their own little cell, but when they’re small they can buddy up. Now, not all of these grow!! I put those beans up there under my grow light on Dec 1st, 2018. Within a few weeks some of them just up and shriveled. That’s fine. Nothing I could have done to prevent it, really, some leaves just don’t grow. So if you’re banking on getting 1 leaf and it growing you might end up disappointed.

This is those same beans today, March 28th, 2019. A few got shuffled around as others died, that middle cell is probably the only one that wasn’t touched and there’s two leaves in there that are growing roots but not any leaves yet. (They’re also wanting more light, I’ve now moved them to my greenhouse since I don’t have any more real estate on the upper shelf of my grow light set-up.)

This is two different trays of leaves that I pulled at the same time from the same plant. The bigger leaves are going much faster than the smaller inner leaves I pulled! So when you’re pulling leaves big is good, though BIGGER isn’t always better. Sometimes when they’re too big they just up and rot from all the water that’s in them sitting around too long.

I also try and make sure any leaves I pull aren’t already being used up! You want plump and healthy. A few days after watering the plant you’re pulling the leaves from is the best time, that makes for plump leaves ripe for using up their inner juice for making babies.

You may have noticed I haven’t really said anything about watering them… That’s because I don’t really. I mean I do but not until they have roots at the very least.

Roots! Hopefully they’re already making their way into the soil but sometimes they don’t. I try and just cover them with a bit of soil, maybe a few larger piece of perlite to encourage them down. At this point I do water them but not with spraying.

I have a bottle with a nice directional nozzle on it to just put water on the soil and not the leaf. (It was originally for hair coloring back when I was in cosmetology.) So I’ll give them a nice drink and leave them for a good while. Maybe water them again in a week? I honestly don’t keep track, I try and look at the mother leaves to determine if they need water, though that’s not always possible.

When the roots are shallow, like the ones up above, getting just the top of the soil moist is fine but when they’re more established I like to give them even deeper soaks to encourage deeper rooting. I have a splash tray under all these cell trays when they’re under my grow light so it’s easy to just squirt water until it’s coming out the bottom without moving them anywhere else to water (and potentially dropping the entire tray on the way to the sink… which I’ve done MANY TIMES.)

For an even DEEPER watering I’ll take the whole cell tray and sit it in a bowl of water for awhile, so the soil can soak it up from the bottom and be completely saturated.

I water like this for all of my adult plants, which these basically are at this point even though they all still have their mother leaves still. If I really wanted those big leaves gone I just wait and don’t water for a bit longer (2-3 of those back ones are yellow-ish and will probably be used up regardless of this watering though). But I like to keep them as long as possible because it’s easier to see wrinkles, if the plants are thirsty, when they have bigger leaves. They float for awhile in this bowl but as the soil soaks up the water they get heavier and drop, which just pushes the water up into the soil further. Once the top of the soil looks wet I take them out to drain and then put them back where they live.

Look at how thirsty these succers are. I can bend the leaf! When it’s full of water these things are stiff and rigid! No way you can bend those without snapping them when they’re not thirsty.

I don’t even know where that little prop came from. That’s supposed to be a single plant cell! But it’s growing, and I’ve never watered it that I know of (specially since I just noticed it today??). It may have fallen off of something from the shelf above. I’ve got no clue what it is though.

Anyway, That’s really all I do! I just ignore them most of the time when I’m not taking copious amounts of pictures.

Try again in your new apartment, it could be your old environment just wasn’t good for them. Not everyone’s house is good for every type of plant so experiment and find what works for you! You could also try water propagation if laying them out really doesn’t work. Sometimes the higher humidity helps them. You just rubber band some plastic wrap to the top of a jar, or something, filled with water and then poke some holes in the plastic enough for the ends of your leaves to go through. You don’t want them directly in the water, though, just above it and not touching.

You can also search my “succulent propagation” and “propagation” tags for more pictures and updates on all my props as they age (which I need to post some updates about now that I’m looking through them all. My E. Black Princes are much bigger and darker now!!)

#succulents #succulent propagation #propagation #succulent asks #plant help #plant advice #succulent help #it's 1 am and I have craaaamps and a very bad hormonal headache #but I will talk about the succs no matter what!!#you can't stop me body #Anonymous

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grappel-writes · 6 years ago

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Sweet as Honey...Bitter as Gall update

Chapter 7

The winter holidays passed by uneventfully, and Shane had the whole week of Christmas off to spend with family. He was proud to say that he did that for most of the week, and told himself the rest of the time he spent sitting on the cliffside after Jas' bedtime was much needed alone time. Funny how he never felt any better after those nights.

It was early on New Year's Eve, Shane was sitting in the kitchen, pushed back on a creaky wooden dining chair and pretending to listen to Jas talk about her dolls when his phone alerted in his pocket so unexpectedly he almost fell backwards.

"Who is it?" Jas asked, pressing herself against his side so she could read over his shoulder when he pulled his phone out. Even though he turned away from her once he unlocked his phone, she just leaned over his lap.

"A Bee?" she asked, looking to him for explanation.

"Yup."

Good Evening, I hope you had a nice dinner. I heard that a lot of people from the town were going to ring in the new year at the saloon tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there? Tell Jas and Marnie I said hi.

"Who is it Uncle Shane?" Jas pressed, falling back on her heels after practically climbing all over him to read the message.

"It's Bee, I told you."

"Who?"

"Oh, uh, Rebecca?"

"Oh! Your boss!"

Shane smiled at that, "yeah, my boss. Hey, you should totally call her Bee from now on, okay? She thinks it's hilarious." Marnie had just walked into the kitchen during this sentence, and Jas giggling as she agreed.

"What? Does she not like being called that?"

Shane shrugged, he wasn't actually sure if it bothered her or not, but it made her feel like someone he could know to him. Rebecca was this meticulous, cultured woman from the city that intimidated him, but the name Bee made him think of her with her horse, or when she sat in silence with him over coffee.

"You know, I've heard other people in town starting to call her Bee now, too." Marnie continued, "But if she doesn't like it, we should all stop."

"I'll ask her tonight." He replied, standing up and pocketing his phone again. Marnie nodded, they had already had plans to go to the saloon tonight as well, not necessarily together, but Jas was being dropped off at Vincent's and neither one of them wanted to spend it alone in the house.

"You're going to walk her, I assume?"

"What?"

"That's a long, dark walk from her farmhouse to the town, I hate to think of her making it on her own. I'll drop Jas off on my way so you can go with her."

"I'm sure she'll be alright, Marnie, she's a grown woman, but," He stopped, noticing Jas yawn and nudging her. "Hey kid, you should go pack up, alright? Don't forget your toothbrush." He rubbed her back when she walked off to retrieve her bag.

"But?"

"Huh?" He hoped she would've dropped it when he changed the subject.

"You said she's a grown woman, but…?" Marnie crossed her arms, suddenly very serious about this.

"Okay, okay, I'll offer to walk with her there." He conceded, and trudged off to his own room to make sure he looked at least a little presentable.

He couldn't remember a time while living with Marnie when he cared this much about his appearance. He had gotten back into the habit of shaving at least every other day, his hair was usually combed before he left house now, too.

Yeah, but I told marnie and now shes making me ask if I can walk you there i hope that is ok

Satisfied that his message didn't come across as something he wanted to do, but rather an obligation, he went to his seldom used closet to pick out something to wear. Wasn't this usually a dressier night? He thought he remembered everyone last year dressing up, since this was one of the only events in the quiet rural town that would excuse it. Haley in particular had worn a slinky, low cut, floor length dress that caught plenty of attention. He rifled through his clothes, deciding on a pair of grey slacks that he remembered fit him nicely, a dark blue button up, but his hand stopped on the hanger once he pushed through the few jackets he owned.

"Shane? Can I see it?" Sadie called sweetly from the other side of the dressing room door.

"No, I hate it."

"Ugh, you're so boring, let me see it!"

The door swung open, revealing a very frustrated looking Shane. The tweed dinner jacket was only a little large on the body, but the sleeves nearly covered his hands.

"It doesn't fit, I just want to pick something else."

"I love it!" She exclaimed, immediately rushing in to fidget with the sleeves. "We'll just get it tailored and it'll fit perfectly, it really brings out your eyes." She looked up at him with a smile, and leaned in for a kiss.

He begrudgingly complied, and gave her a small smile back once she pulled back.

"Fine."

He wrinkled his nose at the jacket once he pulled it down, but it was really the only one that wouldn't look absolutely ridiculous on him at this point. Everything else in the closet was at least two sizes too small. Once dressed he pulled down an old pair of leather shoes that were in dire need of care, and managed to find a pair of dress socks in the mess of his dresser. He felt ridiculous. He slipped through the hallway and into the bathroom as quickly as possible so no one would see him. He stared at himself in the mirror, seeing himself now in clothes he had only ever worn before made it feel like he was just pretending. It felt insulting to the memory of who he was. He could never be that man again, happy, in shape, why was he even bothering?

The second he was back in his room he heard his phone alert again, and he picked it up as he was shrugging out of the damned coat.

That actually sounds lovely! I would like that very much, it also gives me a chance to give you my belated Christmas gift. You should wear something with lapels so you can wear it tonight.Sorry, I realized I completely ruined the surprise, but I just couldn't take that risk.

He didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

Shane gave a quick shouted good-bye to Marnie and Jas while they were in his god-daughter's bedroom, and rushed out the door before they could see him. Even though the sun had set, it thankfully wasn't cold enough to warrant a winter coat, and there was only hints of snow at the bases of the trees and places where the sun never touched. He used his phone flashlight to though the short wooded area, and with every step his throat grew tighter. He couldn't do this, he looked like a damn fool, he was going to make an ass of himself, he looked like he was trying to hard, people were going to look and laugh and talk the second they saw him walk in with her. Even if she immediately went to hang out with someone else, they would undoubtedly lean over and ask her, in that voice, why she had come with him in the first place anyway.

He had to stop walking. He stood in the tree line and desperately scrambled for his flask. He took one large swallow, and once he felt the burn of it on his stomach, another. He stood there for a moment longer, eyes closed, until the warmth started. Then he capped it and put it back. He'd be drinking plenty tonight, he reminded himself. Other people would be drinking a lot too, so, it won't even seem out of place tonight, he assured himself. Nodding to himself, he continued.

Shane knocked on her front door, feeling like a nervous high schooler going to prom. At least, he thought he did, he couldn't actually remember his prom night. When the door opened, he realized that in all that time he spent worrying about how he looked he hadn't even considered how he'd look next to her, and if he had he would've canceled and stayed home. Her dark hair was down and styled into loose curls that were impossibly uniform, she wore small and simple black earrings, a strapless silver dress that sparkled all over, around her back and cradled in her elbows was a thick black shawl, and most importantly of all, in her hand was two shot glasses. He was reminded once again that he could do this.

"Hey there!" She greeted, holding the door open for him and hurriedly closing it behind him to protect from the cold. "You look great!"

"Thanks, you do too." He eyed the glasses again, they were full of something very dark brown and so cold the outside of the glasses were frosted. She offered one to him.

"I thought a small celebration of our own was in order, as well as a short pre-game."

He took the glass, but just as he was about to stare into it and swirl it experimentally she tsk'ed and covered it with her hand. "No peeking!" she teased, and he suspected she had already been pre-gaming herself.

"To these past few months. A new job, a new greenhouse, and a new friend." She toasted and held up her shot, he clinked it with hers, and they both threw it back.

Shane felt like he had been punched in the face, he forced himself to swallow the vile liquid though, and immediately shot Bee a look of betrayal. She broke out into a laughter so hard she actually doubled over and held her stomach.

"Jager!?" He accused, unbiddenly smiling at her despite how awful that lingering taste was.

"I'm sorry! It was all I had!"

"Why did you only have Jager!? Why do you have Jager at all!"

She composed herself a little, dabbing at the underside of her eyes and tucking her curls behind her ear, "I actually quite like it."

"That's impossible, no one likes Jager," He scoffed, and noticed how the burning of his ears began to ease his tension. Maybe tonight could even be fun.

Read the whole thing here

#sdv #sdv fic #stardew valley #stardew fanfic #shane sdv #sweet as honey bitter as gall

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adangerousbond · 6 years ago

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The Garden can Break the Greenhouse

I think this will be about 2 chapters all up, I have a few other stories I have been trying to work on and start but there are very few stories for Reade/Zapata, so I needed to write my own in the mini break.

Read below or at FF.net // AO3

Enjoy!

There had been multiple times throughout this mission that she had been unsure if she would succeed; the moment she had realised just how hard it would be to walk away from everyone, when she had watched the entire room around her fall to the ground, unsure if she was going to be next, confronting Reade in his apartment and more recently when she had been kidnapped and interrogated by fake CIA agents, all because Madeline got a little unsure of her, but this time felt different, because at least if she had not survived, she had won.

Slumping down against a crate, she closed her eyes for a moment in an attempt to make the dizziness disappear, her fingers sticky and wet from the blood seeping through her shirt and her ears pounding as she breathed through the pain. She had left Madeline in a room that she knew her team would find her, having had gone after the last of the older woman's helpers, knowing full well that it would take her away from the possible route out of the building that had been rigged to blow in a time frame that was too short for her to do much.

Opening her eyes, Tasha glanced towards the doorway she had come through, the pool of blood from the man she had shot a lot larger than when she had last looked and the realisation that she had been down longer than she had realised kicked in, her limited time was disappearing quicker than she could think.

Pressing as firmly as she could into the wound on her side, she ignored her body's complaints and forced herself up, she had come to far and given up too much to not at least try to get out. Her vision was blurring more with each step she took but she continued towards what she believed was the opposite direction of where the bomb had been placed; Madeline's last line of defence, if all else was lost the woman would get some solace in bringing everyone else down with her too.

Rounding a corner, she heard what sounded like footsteps coming closer to the room she was now in, unsure if it was her mind playing tricks or not, she paused to listen, her answer coming as the door opened and a gun pointed through. Raising her gun shakily towards the approaching figure, with a sudden hint of survival kicking in to cover the lack of strength, her brain barely registering the friendly face as they lowered their weapon and rushed towards her.

"Tasha?!" Reade breathed a sigh of relief, concern quickly taking over as he saw she was struggling to stand. Wrapping an arm around her, he took her weight as he led them back out the way he had come in, his other hand holding his gun tight ready to protect them.

Leaning against him, she actually felt safe for a moment, as she focused on keeping up the quick pace he was making them go, both knowing full well that they needed to be out of the building already. A hint of hope rose in the back of her mind, hope that she might actually get out of this mission alive, but it was quickly replaced by the fear that she might get them both killed.

The answer to her question came moments later as he pushed them through a door a few moments later and the bright sunlight hit her face. He continued his path towards an ambulance in the distance, as she glanced over to her former team, locking eyes with Madeline for a moment and nearly stumbling at the ice in her stare, breaking away she caught the mixture of questioning and disapproving looks from the team, even in her state she could tell Reade was ignoring the same looks, something that she tucked away and hoped she would remember later.

As they close enough to the ambulance that the paramedics saw her, she was quickly surrounded by people ready to help but Reade seemed focused on getting her to the vehicles stretcher before he let her go. The distinct sound of the building exploding ripping through the relief that had fallen over then the moment they had made it to the vehicle, Reade holding its back door in a manner to shield them from any debris from the building as they watched it crumble from the force.

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She barely remembered the ride to the hospital, waking a while later to the beeping, busy noise and sickly clean smell that could only be one place. Opening her eyes, she glanced around the white room, attempting to sit up without getting caught up in the cords connected to her body, her actions catching the eye of a nurse walking by, who smiled quickly at her before hurrying off, most likely to fetch someone to talk to her.

Her suspicions of the nurse were right when a man and woman in doctor's coats entered, followed by a blank Reade. She was surprised to see him there and it made her wonder if it was to take her into custody once given the all clear, he had made it clear that she was simply an asset and her only usefulness was catching Madeline, which she had done; she didn't have Keaton to get her out of a black site anymore, so CIA or FBI; it didn't make much of a difference to her.

"Miss Zapata, I am glad to see you are awake." The male doctor spoke, the way he seemed to be keeping his distance off her bed not lost on her and she had to wonder if they thought she was law enforcement or the enemy.

"Guess I lived." She stated nonchalantly, making eye contact with Reade for a moment before picking up the cup in front of her as an excuse to look away.

"Are you happy for us to update you with Agent Reade in the room? We can do this more privately if you prefer." The doctor spoke again softer than before, noticing the interaction between the two.

"It's fine." She stated, placing the cup back on the tray in front of her, as she wondered if the fact she wasn't handcuffed was a good sign.

"You had a small gunshot wound to the abdomen, not much more than a graze that we patched up, along with a couple other cuts and bruises that you'll need to keep an eye on, we stitched up the more serious ones. The bigger issue is that you were dehydrated and malnourished, which was making your wounds make you weaker than they should, but we have you on an IV full of much needed nutrients and your hydration levels are much better." He rattled off the basics of her injuries to her as she watched him hold himself back, clearly wanting to ask questions but knowing better than too.

"I would also like you to have a chat with our counsellor before you go." The female doctor spoke up, clearly going against a decision the two of them had decided upon before coming into her room.

"Why?" She asked a lack of anything to her tone that she then realised probably didn't help her situation.

"Well, your displaying clear symptoms of being held against your will and of being tortured, pretty seriously by what I've seen, so I would like you to at least have a quick chat with them first." The concern about her welfare evident on the doctor's voice, but Tasha couldn't help but feel it would dissipate if she knew the things she had done.

"When am I leaving, by the way you two talk it sounds as if I am being discharged pretty soon?" Tasha questioned, ignoring the statement and any questions it brought with it as she glanced at the small group at the end of her bed.

"We have a plane waiting to go back to New York." Reade spoke authoritively and his reason for being there dawned on her, he was only there to escort her to the ride home; or to a dark hole, she still wasn't sure which it would be.

"I would prefer if you stayed a little while longer, at least to keep an eye on your wounds." The other woman spoke, dropping her other issue for now. "But we cannot force you to stay."

"If you choose to leave, we will give you some medication for the pain and to try to stop infection, and some supplies to change the bandages if needed, but I would highly suggest going into a hospital as soon as your stateside." The male doctor explained further, the appearance of her having a choice nearly making her laugh, if only they knew the whole story.

"I'll be fine, changed a few bandages in my time." She stated, pretending to have made the decision all on her own, but they were right and the bruises on her wrists would really hurt if the handcuffs went back on.

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Stepping out of the room a little while later having changed into the now clean clothes that she had come in with, bar her shirt that they had cut open, but having been given one of the hospitals light green scrub shirts to wear instead, she definitely felt more refreshed than she had in the last few weeks.

"Ready?" Reade spoke coldly, as if he was here for a job and that was it; which she supposed he was.

Tasha nodded in response, handing the clipboard she was holding to a nurse at the nurses' station as they started their way to the elevator. The coldness between them hurting, but she pushed it down, knowing she had hurt him more and it had been her choice, so she didn't deserve anything but.

Their silence continued in the drive to the airport, only interrupted by a call coming through midway there, the silence returning as quickly as the call ended. As they approached the hanger, she wasn't sure if she should be worried or thankful that they had a private jet waiting for them, the unanswered question about her fate slowly eating away at her.

Following behind him quietly, at the very least she knew that was all she could do at the moment, choosing that it was safer to prepare for the worst than to hold on to the slither of hope. She took the stairs to the plane slowly, ignoring the way he waited at the top as to ensure she didn't try to run and hated that she couldn't read if he was impatient or concerned as she past him and made her way to a seat.

Curling in against herself, she sat in a seat next to a window silently, letting the other members of a team she was once a part of move around the plane, only stopping what they were doing as the plane moved towards the runway and then took off, soaring towards its destination and potentially towards her hell.

"How are you feeling?" Patterson asked as she sat opposite her, breaking her train of thought as the concern from her once close friend brought a tinge of hope.

"Been better." She responded with a weak smile, turning to face her and watching as Rich sat next to her, the two looking as if they were about to start an interrogation of their own kind.

"We got Madeline red handed, HCI Global won't come back from this." The blonde stated getting down to business.

"Good." At least it hadn't ended up all being for nothing, that was something she could hold on to where ever she ended up.

"Why?" Her old friend asked, her question drawing the other occupant to the conversation, as Reade made his way over, having no choice but to sit on the spare seat next to her.

"Why?" Tasha questioned the question, not sure which part of it the why referred to.

"Why did you agree to it?" Rich brought up the first question the group seemed to have for her.

"It's not like he had anyone else lining up to do it, I couldn't exactly turn it down." She tried to explain, but this group was FBI through and through, they had never understood why she had gone CIA and so she couldn't expect them to understand why she had been prepared to give up everything, including her job at the CIA for it.

"Was it because we weren't talking and you two were barely talking?" Patterson got right to the question that had been eating at her, wanting to understand her mindset.

"I won't lie," She started, her comment gaining a huff from the man next to her, "It helped me agree to it in the first place, but when it started, us all being friends again made walking away the hardest thing I have ever done."

"Yet you did it anyway. You left without a word and joined forces with our enemy." The blonde argued, the hurt that she had and was still feeling evident in her tone.

"Even to my standards, that's not right." Rich spoke up, trying to cut through with tension that was filling up the small plane quickly.

"You could have just told us." Reade near repeated the words he had told her when he had her in the FBI just over a week prior.

"I couldn't risk it." Tasha told him sadly, knowing how the words sounded the moment she said them.

"Risk what, we were your team." The were in his sentence cutting the deepest, she knew they weren't a team anymore, but it still hurt to be reminded.

"I had to go deep Reade, I couldn't have any outs, it was all or nothing." She tried explaining from a different angle, she knew they all had their own thoughts as to why she had done it the way that she had and that they were all still hurt by those reasons.

"All you needed to do was tell us enough that we would have known you weren't betraying us, we wouldn't have sold you out." He fired back, bringing trust back into it, because if there was anything that this team had survived on it was trust.

"If I told you and anything went wrong, if I failed I wouldn't have forgiven myself. I couldn't risk anything, and if I succeeded and you guys didn't forgive me that was a something I would have to live with." She told him softly, knowing he had every right to feel the way he did but she hadn't had the choice, after everything she had done, this mission had been the very least she could offer, no matter the cost.

"And if it went wrong, what, we would have just never known the truth?" Patterson asked, anger flaring up in her tone as she listened to the reasoning and knew that it had been a very real possibility.

"Keaton promised he would tell the team the truth if it went bad." The brunette responded, the sentence sinking in as the group realised that it was an outcome that she had not only understood but had had a plan for as well.

"Then why come to me that night." Reade broke the silence, all eyes flying to him the moment he spoke. Looking around the group she knew the other two had at least some understanding that they had crossed a line, but they hadn't quite known how far over the line they had gone and the other two was just as surprised as she was that he was bringing it up now.

"I know I shouldn't have, it was selfish, but like I told you, I thought I would never see you again." She stared him down like she had in the interrogation room, needing him to know that as much as she had lied and hurt him, that her feelings were real and that she hated hurting him.

"You also told me that you always loved me, but I guess just not enough to tell me the truth." He threw her words back at her, both of them ignoring the way Rich was watching them as he was watching a day time soap show.

"You and I both know I would have ruined us anyway." She sighed, a lone tear escaping as she droped his eye contact as and wishing he would drop the topic for a time more private, but also glad that he was somewhat prepared to talk to her and that he had clearly confided in Patterson, who was watching the two with a sad expression, having had conversations with both, she understood that they were both in pain.

"How is it you keep making that choice for me?" Reade used a previous conversation against her once more and like before, not really expecting her to answer that statement.

"How about we stop there before someone says something they can't take back?" Rich spoke up, starting to get a touch uncomfortable, confrontations; especially those in a confined space, were not at the top of his list for enjoyable situations.

"Oh, we have said way worse to each other." Tasha couldn't help but joke, her words dropping the group back into silence.

"Where's Jane and Weller, are they okay?" Tasha asked after a while, feeling comfortable enough in the group to start asking her own questions.

"Chasing up a lead for Jane." Rich responded without thinking, his answer drawing an inquisitive look from the brunette and a sharp glare from the man opposite him. "And I've said to much."

She knew better than to push her luck on the subject, clearly there was going to be things that she would miss and they all barely seemed to tolerate her, let alone trust her with information on the two main members of the team, but it still hurt. Watching Rich get up and head towards the planes far corner where his laptop lay waiting, Tasha realised that he was distancing himself before he said anything further.

"Wait." She spoke up as Reade moved to stand as well, her request gaining a glare, but he remained seated none the less, as she got the courage to ask the question haunting her the most. "What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not handing you over to the CIA if that's what you're worried about." His words didn't answer her question fully, but they gave her a glimmer of hope, something that was quite dangerous to her right now.

"What then?" She pushed further, she mightn't have the right to push about anything else, but she knew this was the one topic that no one could blame her for wanting an answer to.

"Well they are going to want to debrief you and as Keaton is still unconscious and though Claudia backed you up to me, she might not be so forthcoming with them, but for the mean time you'll remain in FBI custody, might even set you up in a safe house if it comes down to it." He explained, trying to sound as if he was talking to any other informant but the three of them knew that he was bending his power as deputy director.

"Really?" Tasha asked, hope slipping into her tone for the first time in a long time and she couldn't stop the small smile crossing her features.

"Well the end result was beneficial to the FBI, least we can do is make sure you don't get thrown into some dark hole." He reasoned to everyone, including himself, as he looked down to give himself a chance to school his features.

"Thanks." She responded, relief pushing aside her pain for a moment as she suppressed the urge to hug him, knowing that that action would not be well received.

"We should probably go over some key points before they get a chance to brief you though, like for starters, were the doctors correct when they said that you had been tortured recently?" He switched back to a line of conversation that he was in control of.

"Yes." She answered too coolly, the only sign that the question even bothered her was the way that she pulled her legs a bit closer, even though the action would cause her pain.

"Who?" Patterson spoke up for the first time in a while, the news surprising and concerning her, she knew it hadn't been an easy mission, but this was something else.

"They grabbed me when I was supposed to meet Del Toro, pretended to be CIA or were CIA working for Madeline, but they tried to get me to admit that I was undercover, all I knew was that if I told either option the truth they would have killed me." Tasha started explaining calmly as if it was not her story she was telling.

"Guess you held out." Reade responded coldly but watching her closely non the less.

"Reade!" Rich's voice rang out from over his laptop screen, clearly requesting his presence with what he had been working on.

"We will pick this up later." Reade stated as he rose and walked away from them, Patterson following closely behind, only pausing at another seat to grab a blanket which she then passed it to Tasha.

Folding the blanket into a makeshift pillow, she placed it on the window, figuring she might as well attempt to sleep or at the very least pretend to, to allow her a quiet flight as she knew that they would all leave her alone if rest and right she had to process the last couple of days. She just wished that she could be 100% certain that they would be able to protect her from the CIA, Keaton had been the only one who would have been able to talk them down and even though her mission had succeed, she knew that the CIA would be unhappy with the way she had dragged their name through the mud.

#blindspot #tasha x reade #zapata x reade #tasha zapata #edgar reade #my fic #why do I always start new fics instead of finishing old ones #sorry

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dcarevu · 6 years ago

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Pretty Poison

“No strychnine. But I added just a pinch of vanilla!”

SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

I experienced poison ivy when I was a kid. The rash was all over my leg, and I gave it plenty of time to spread before finally seeing a doctor. It was absolutely miserable. But y’know… At least I can say that never during that time did I ever need to deal with a man-eating plant, a dying friend stuck in ICU, or the slow feeling of poison dragging me straight down into my cactus-filled grave.

Villain: Poison Ivy

Robin: No Writer: Tom Ruegger (teleplay), Paul Dini (story), Michael Reaves (story) Director: Boyd Kirkland Animator: Sunrise Airdate: September 14, 1992 Episode Grade: A

Now this is what I’m talking about!

Okay, so the show thus far has been good. I’ve been enjoying starting it from scratch and watching it in its proper order. And Char who is completely new to the show has liked it a lot as well. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by her reactions. And of course, there was always the thought that maybe it just wouldn’t end up being her type of thing (not that it would be the worst thing in the world by any means). But if you’ve noticed, I haven’t given any episodes a rating above a B yet. But I knew this episode was coming. I knew it was a great one. And it didn’t let either of us down. Eventually we will get to the safe zone of the series, where the show becomes much more consistent, and consistently great at that. Everything evens out, and the identity is solidified. I don’t think we are quite at that point yet, but I do consider this episode to be a sign post that says, “Just a little bit further!” I want to reiterate that the past 4 episodes have not been bad! B is a good grade, and even C is passing. But, yeah, look at who wrote this episode. When Paul Dini is involved, that’s usually a very good sign right there. In my opinion, he was one of the best (if not the best) things to happen to the DC Animated Universe. Tom Ruegger is another creator whom I have much appreciation for (Animaniacs and Freakazoid, yes please), and as far as Michael Reaves, I’m not too familiar with what he’s done, but we’ll learn as we advance through the series I suppose!

This episode felt so adult compared to the past bunch! We get Bruce out with his friend Harvey Dent, doing realistic adult things. We have relationship talk. We have talk about the building and funding of a penitentiary. We have some really grim looks at inside the hospital as Harvey Dent is being carted away. We have our most complex villain so far (Joker would become more complex as the show went on, however, rivaling Ivy). In fact, let’s talk about our villain this episode.

Poison Ivy is adorably evil. Like, seriously. She’s so cute. It’s really tragic, because, surprise, she’s another Batman villain who isn’t quite all there. I mean, she waits five years, hunts down a pretty high-profile person in a fairly large city, attracts him to the point of him wanting to marry her after a week of knowing her (despite what we find out later about our pal Harvey), then severely poisons him with virtually no hope of cure. Jeez, lady! Now that’s the type of woman you want. In Char’s words, “Um, you’re kinda being evil, honey.” Interestingly, we had a conversation about serial killers before watching this episode because, well, I don’t know, that’s something that emo-aesthetic college-aged young adults talk about…and a book that she is reading called Great Lakes Serial Killers by Wayne Louis Kadar mentions that female serial killers poison 80% of the time when it comes to method. Also, it’s generally common knowledge that female serial killers can often be in it for things like money, revenge, or similar things. I’m not sure if the writing team did their research, of if it was a complete coincidence, but Poison Ivy aligns heavily with this, and it brings in a real-world aspect. Even if we also get a man-eating plant out of it.

Poison Ivy is also a case of someone being an extremist when it comes to what she believes is right. She cares for plants as much as many of us care for our own pets. This is a little strange, but all well and good until we get to the stage of murder being the right answer to someone digging up a few endangered roses. And the thing is, watching her heart shatter as, say, she murders her own plant with a small arrow, or as her greenhouse bursts into flames…you almost feel for her. This isn’t an act, and she truly does not consider herself an evil person. In her opinion, Harvey Dent (and even Bruce Wayne) completely deserve the gravestone. They murdered an innocent plant. But her reality does not match society’s, and this is some severely antisocial, dangerous behavior. She needs serious help, and watching her being locked up in Stonegate as opposed to Arkham is sad (not to mention ironic, considering it’s the very thing that lead her to commit this particular crime). She could be a good person if she were cured. She’s super smart. Graduated as a scientist. Has potential to be a really caring person. But one too many screws are loose here. You want Batman to stop her. But you’re also glad he saves her and her flowers. I like that she got to keep them in her cell. Although knowing the damage this plant can do to someone, I’m not sure if it was really the best idea. Hell, if she wanted to, she could probably eat some of the leaves to kill herself, assuming that she has yet to build up a strong immunity.

We also see in this episode that Bruce Wayne is indeed capable of having a social life, and it’s so sincere that you almost forget that much of it is likely very contrived. They play with this a little bit as Harvey describes Bruce to Ivy, mentioning the things that he knows about him while cutting back to Batman demonstrating that Harvey is indeed correct, but in the most ironic ways possible. I do think that Bruce does channel real parts of him to portray the character which he portrays. But I also think that he leaves a lot of himself in the cowl, and when he walks around in his suit and tie, a lot of him is an empty shell of a man. I’m not saying he’s not human. Bruce can have fun. He can laugh. He can be a genuinely warm guy. He also has a lot to hide, though. He takes small parts of a normal business personality and runs with them as far as he can, stretching them out quite thin.

Despite this episode being a massive step up in maturity, it’s not without its fun. Bullock running back for doughnuts is a predictable gag, but I’m not going to pretend that it didn’t get a laugh out of me. What an arrogant slob this dude is. And yet as we watch him interrogating the kitchen staff of the restaurant Harvey collapsed at, we’re glad he’s in the show, and once again reminded that we love to be annoyed by him. He’s someone I would still worry about if he were in danger. He’s someone I want to ultimately be happy and find success. But I also want him to improve as a human being. All while wanting him to remain exactly the way he is so I can continue to want these things and root for him for the rest of the show. We root for him in different ways than he roots for himself.

Some other classic Batman TAS things happen too. Bruce steals the blood sample from the hospital, knowing damn well that taking matters into his own hands is the only viable option. We get Alfred being a genuinely great butler, father-figure, and sidekick all at once (look out, Robin, you’ve got some competition). And we even got a stylish sepia-toned flashback, which ties in great to the plot of the episode. That moment when the gears turn in our minds and we realize Poison Ivy’s motive is great. We’re taking off, guys. I was excited about finally starting this show again. I was having fun with the last 4 episodes (and pilot). And now with this one, I’m feeling just like I was when I first watched the entirety of Batman however many years ago.

By the way, while Poison Ivy is hot, this show in general has been even hotter. There have been a lot of fires! There was an explosion in On Leather Wings that leads to a fire. We had a fire in Nothing To Fear. In The Last Laugh, Batman is suspended above a fire at a dumpster. And now we have another one in this episode. Jesus, Batman oughta exchange his mask for a fire helmet. Because of this, I propose we keep a fire tally. Not just for Batman either. Let’s keep it going for the entire DCAU just for a bit of fun. I’m sure there will be some more counts that pop up as I notice more tropes, but keep in mind, this is purely for my own entertainment. It’s not to knock one of my favorite shows!

Fire count: 4 Char’s grade: A Major firsts: Poison Ivy, Renee Montoya

Next time: The Underdwellers

For blog entires on every episode of the DC Animated Universe, follow DCArevU! I update as frequently as I can, watching and writing between school, work, and general life stresses. Feel free to watch along with me! Check out the episode list, which can easily be found via the side bar of the blog!

#dcau #dc animated universe #batman tas #pretty poison #batman the animated series #poison ivy

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ladyofmind · 6 years ago

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October Wrap Up

Hey everyone! Sorry for the silence... been busier than even I can keep up with, and also found out that the last Music Monday I had a few weeks back- well it didn’t post so I was quieter than I intended to be...

But it is NaNoWriMo time now, so there should be time to settle in and post like mad to update you all, and write my 50k! After all, I have no plans to be anywhere this November. Fingers crossed nothing else goes crazy on me.

Without further chatter, game answers after the jump.

#CharactersHell

1- Rooms for rent above an active and lively bar, for as long as you like* (*Mgmt not responsible for any damage from the cat or other beings if you leave your door open/unlocked.)

2- Not in the expected way. Most of the monsters are the human Antags. The antags are motivated by jealousy and obsession. Other characters have their own personal demons, or else they aren’t really human...

3- Not real monsters, not really. The Antags are over the top in their issues, but they are rarer. Everybody has some kind of issue though.

4- Frost? That grumpy man is actually a bit of a softy inside… If not, Sly mixes up some ugly looking boozy milkshakes that are pretty tasty!

5- That would be the Antag. Tim is a sort of threat in waiting, one that slips around a bit like the snake he is. The incidents he is involved in are hard to figure out until after it happens...

6- My world is no different than our world. There is divinity in the form of God etc, but it really plays no part in my story.

7- Same world, same dire predictions. Only difference is, it’s a brothel, so one can assume they may already be in hell…

8- Most interesting job? That’s a toss up… It’s an interesting place to work in general, but I’m torn between Woods being in a band, or Tweety, the one in somewhat charge of all the other looney tunes….

9- Best Co-worker award goes to Malta. There is no one else likely to push, prod, and sometimes accidentally beat ya up to have a good time, while respecting limits. Unlike the constant party pusher Bebe, Malta can tell when you need the push, and when you just need a cuppa tea.

10- Most of the time, the networking person is Tweety, as everyone knows her and gets connected by her. But for this, I have to give it to the guys. Nira has a lot of connections from before bar life, music man Martin is always networking and improving his career, and Frost? Well the giant makes friends thru fights. Might not be a lot, but they are the best connections…

11- This is a little bit of everyone really. Malta, Frost, and others don’t do it intentionally, it’s more of a language barrier. Sly is the master of deflection to the point you still don’t know very much. That may be why Tweety sees him as an equal, as everyone assumes they know her, but they never know a thing. She doesn’t lie, just turns things around on ya.

12- Woods is about/has turned professional famous musician, depending on which book you read… Tweet is just really good at talking to people and getting everywhere from it.

13- Antags- Sofia has some fans yes. She’s a strange boss with a back story & has some loyal workers until she does things to mess that up (her MO). Tim on the other hand? Well, he’s liked for what his skills & the more unstable/broken sorts love him to obsession.

14- The Antags are good for backstabbing! Tim and Sophia work together for the mostly common goal, but in places there’s differences. For instance, a rigged auction is supposed to end in Tim’s favor. Doesn’t mean S can’t make more money off of him if he wants it that badly…

15- Tim gives me the creeps. There’s this thing he does that makes me feel violated too, so I know it will be good in the end… I just need recovery time after him.

16- Tweet isn’t monstrous… but it is a pain sometimes, writing for an always happy sort, even if you want to have her fight back against things.

17- Tim is as direct as a blunt log to the face can be. He’s more bull in the china shop. Sophia is the mastermind, making her puppets dance in that web way. You can 100% assume she’s behind something, but you’re hard pressed to prove it…

18- With Tim, smarts is the easy part. It’s Sophia you match wits with, if you have to at all…

19- Woods isn't really vicious… maybe some biting comments while holding a grudge. Tweet is always the “kill 'em with kindness” type

20- I think the side chars are very active in their own ways to push this story forward. Some are even pushy as hell!

21- Ok, so Frost isn't exactly wrathful towards the MC so much as ornery and wrathful at everyone… but he does blame Tweety for flaring his ulcer with her ideas.

22- Not all that hard for me, as I don’t force my characters into doing things they wouldn’t do anyway. I try to learn who they are first and go from there.

23- I don’t really use red herrings, not intentionally. There may be one or two accidentally...

24- So zen! I throw on some earphones blaring my playlist and forget that people exist. The absolute worst is when you’re writing so well, and then someone scares you by interrupting you!

25- I’m not really into the sweets. Once in a while, but mostly my writing runs off potato chips or pretzels. Crunchy and salty balances the romance writing well!

26- #FF #followfriday with interesting stories by: @nomdejillian @TGNeal @SkeptiCybrarian @marshawritesit

27- Halloween was fun when I was a kid. Now I enjoy making Halloween-y cookies and giving them out to people I like, since we never have trick or treaters where I live. One year per the Halloween cookie costume rules, I dressed in all grey with a bell on… Jingle bell rock ya’ll!

28- Not a prankster, so not very wrathful at all. Halloween isn’t a big deal near me.

29- Oh I think I did that already! False arrest of the sweet one anyone?

30- So this is a boost for our Co-Host @manual_arbanassi! His amazing, well rounded character work in #Tiogair is great. Plus he totally shares that character building with all of us with both this game and #CharactersTell!

31- After work where I have to avoid a kids book sale while having a bills closing day? Relax and maybe watch a Halloween-y movie. Really, I am more excited about #NaNoWriMo starting at midnight.

#SciFiNaNoPrep

1- Hi, Nicole here. I was fairly certain for #NaNo I would continue my #RedLetters #series, but this Mars idea won’t let go. It has an outline, so maybe this prep will help me change course?

2- For this Mars idea? 50K or whatever it takes to finish this idea. Definitely looking to start it.

3- It’s very similar in that it’s our Earth, and an exploration of the Mars planet we think we know.

4- The not so very distant future. My research says I need at least 4 years, so mid to late 2020’s

5- Planet Mars for about 90% of it. There’s a little Earth training time, and possibly other planet flash backs.

6- Both generally advanced Earth tech, and some stuff for Mars that feels like #spoilers (plus I need to sort that out –Note to self on more #prep!)

7- Haven’t quite named them… but I do know there’s some diversity and a female MC/narrator

8- That’s definitely a #spoiler! I can say that it’s a “greet the way you’re greeted” thing…

9- Oh, I’m showing my age here for sure… but like Sailor Mercury from Sailor Moon or the original Power Rangers Billy the blue ranger come to mind… for their smarts and calmness.

10- There are both Earth “children” and adults, plus some Martian life.

11- Earth customs, sure, all the standard ones. Martian customs fall into “show you, you decide what happens” things. Because the message/meanings are important sometimes.

12- #FF #followfriday with #scifi writers: @RagingCyclone @authorASMcGowan @mae_mckinnon and a bunch of people at #wipworldbuilders

13- I would say somewhere in between, as it largely depends on which side you see it from. Just because it’s Utopia to one may be dystopia to another. Similar to the grass being greener on the other side theory.

14- Earth politics are the same. Mars doesn’t have politics in the same way. They have more rule, order and understanding.

15- Mars is more science and study, so they are more guardians less lawyers in that sense. They have systems for everything, but mostly they do not have crime within their own ranks. Outsiders are a different story.

16- Oh lots! I am taking some of the known things about planets and life and tying it together to give credible conspiracy theory if you will. Might even include Nikola Telsa…

17- As Mars is a drier planet- with more wind storm, less water, the idea of hydro anything doesn’t work. Plus they have a better greenhouse process that makes planting in the ground useless.

18- There is really no focus on currency in this idea, as shooting for different themes, money being the root of trouble not one of them.

19- ATV type things above ground, underground tunnels with everything from walking to hovering transports.

20- I enjoy a reasonable time travel story. Not the type that appear there just to be there, or where the tech that travels person is hokey. More like Timeless, Krypton, or Doctor Who on good days.

21- On Mars there is advanced tech where medicine as we know it is obsolete. A little more nanites and lasers a lot less oral pills and rectal anythings.

22- Mars is a dry windy planet without water, in comparison to Earth’s visible habitats.

23- Mars grows things without name at the moment, but it is edible, like all things people make do with.

24- Standard Martian wear is something of a lab coat but resistant to its environmental elements.

25- Anything can be a weapon in untrained hands…

26- #FF upcoming writers

27- Earthlings go to school and are trained for space exploration. Martians learn by doing.

#RomanceNaNoPrep

1- Hi, Nicole here. Library worker by day/night/weekend, writer every other chance. Currently two and a half books into my #RedLetters series. So far all I’ve ever written falls into womens fiction category.

2- For Red Letters? 50K is just going to start it. They end up being easily 80-100K, even if its more like 200K words that have to be split into two different books...

3- Romance is my sub genre, as it reads more like womans fiction first. But the other books in the series cover more of the slice of life/journey stuff. This one would have a heavier romantic tone.

4- I love a good believable romance. Whether it starts off as a one night stand or getting to know each other first, the characters have to be real and well rounded. Funny is a plus but not cartoony or asks me to assume too much.

5- Depends on the mood. If I need a little escape, a sweet romance will do the trick. But if I need to be reminded of what it’s like to be human outside of working too much or need a serious escape, steamy tends to have a better grip on me.

6- #RedLetters started as an RP… don’t know where the 💜 of romance came from, but I’ve been writing about it as long as I can remember. Helps that hubs & I have been together 10+ yrs & we’re good friends first. Learned lots about relationships from that alone.

7- The main characters in #RedLetters has always been Naomi, better known as Tweety and the musician Woods. There is a whole host of other characters that are important, and Greg may become an MC… if he stays Greg of course.

8- Well, it’s not really a special meaning, so much as an inside joke. Tweety got her nickname from an outfit she wore, and a drunk-ish Cockney woman. The rest as they say is history…

9- Honestly? Kind of a fan of Emma Stone. Looks sweet and innocent, but can be sassy and a bit sexy too. All around package, inside and out I think.

10- I might have the Evil Other Woman cliche… At least on the surface. Hoping the history fleshes this out to be a full story not just a mad woman scorned thing...

11- Big fan of sassy heroines (aka no weak and fainty unrealistic women) and maybe a touch of the second chance at love thing…

12- #FF #followfriday @MaeBaumWriter @klimov_author have been #prepping with me since day one... plus I like the stuff @K_A_Grayson does in her rockstar #romance...

13- When they first met, Tweety was about 21/22. Woods was 24/25. When they meet again about 5 years later, Woods is 30, Tweety will have a birthday in that book.

14- The characters are struggling 20's. Woods is higher in class while trying to do it himself. Tweety's poorer & finding herself. Inside the bar/club, social status doesn’t matter, & in some cases, makes you less important the more important you assume you are.

15- Woods sister approves, eventually. Tweety doesn’t talk to her parents, instead relying on Frost the manager to be her father figure. After a good bit of threatening during a chat with Woods, Frost approved too.

16- In this book? Friendly enemies. Tweety is not happy to see him, but she is never a rude sort, more the kill with kindness type. Woods is more eager to charm her into regretting her choices and occasionally bringing up the past, even if facts are distorted...

17- What brings Tweet and Woods together? A certain book… you know when you get that déjà vu feeling? Except you have proof from your side of the tale too. Trouble is that the truth has its own version…

18- What’s keeping them apart? Lots of hurt pride, broken hearts, completely different lifestyles… But even with all that past, the thing that made them unique is still there.

19- Remember yesterday, when I said different lifestyles? Yeah. West coast musician with a wildly successful touring band vs an East coast wildly famous bar/nightclub owner. One is always on the go, the other is happily rooted to one spot. Plus the same problems as last time- other people.

20- Woods can be a bit too thick headed or obtuse for Tweet’s liking. Woods isn’t exactly annoyed by her running off tendency, but it isn’t making his days any better either.

21- Well, this pair have been together before, and neither were all that innocent then. But since then… One has gone full on flavor of the month style, while the other is much more cautious about their reputation.

22- Woods & Tweet = the infamous Ghostbusters “don’t cross the streams” thing. It’s a peppy flirt who makes you question if she’s as naïve as she sounds vs a rogue with all the manners of that bad boy you need to leave with. Their game is holding out the longest & upping the stakes…

23- Their first kiss? Very steamy yet semi polite in front of the crowd… You see, it was Halloween, and there were sexy costumes… someone didn't speak, just acted, and the rest is... in the book!

24- In this series, I love that Tweet and Woods flirt at the level of chess moves sometimes. Tweety makes a man play on her level or the game is over. If you use tired lines or give the answer she expects when giving you enough rope to hang yourself… well she’s already over it.

29- Favorite quality about-

Tweety- She’s amazing at making people feel welcome and free to be themselves.

Woods- He’s got an awesome amount of patience and tolerance. The not being jealous adds to his charms.

30- Least favorite quality about-

Tweety- Always with the bright, happy side even if it hurts…

Woods- He picks up a ghost nickname for a reason you know.

31- This has been fun, and I’m totally ready for #NaNoWriMo! (Sits and waits for the clock to strike 12…)

#CharactersTell

1/10- “Oh, it’s my favorite month! Halloween weekend parties are our best buiness, and the most fun! Of course I have to come chat about #RedLetters with you all. You all know me as miss Tweety...”

2/10- Tweety- “Why i’m your hostess with the most-ess! I run the front of house at Soulful, in addition to being a co-owner.”

3/10- Tweety- “It’s only lonely in the sense of responsibility. Otherwise, I have a ton of staff and regulars around at any given time.”

4/10-Tweety- “I guess? I’m great with a lot of things, but Nira is best with the finances, so I leave that to him. Since I started being a waitress, I had him investing & asked for what I needed to buy clothes with. Best way to pay him back for the couch surfing.”

5/10- Tweety- “My time off is usually when I sleep. Now there is some help so I can leave before I start falling asleep, but other than writing, I wouldn’t know what to do with time off.”

6/10- Tweety- “Adventure happens all around the club. You never know what Bebe will do when bored, at least my job and the respect given to me, keeps the place from falling down around it all.”

7/10- Tweety- “Well, I would hope that my kindness keeps me in high esteem… Why else would we be so packed all the time? I know there are those against me, because I built a following from scratch.”

#CharactersTell

8/10- “I'm Greg, Gus’ grandson and recent college grad with a degree in business.”

9/10- Greg- “I had a few odds jobs, some for the experience more than the money, but yeah I work a lot.”

10/10- Greg- “I'm not nefarious. Just a regular guy with an inheritance that apparently affects others…”

11/10- Greg- “That's what I'm trying to decide! A piece of a prosperous club or a life on my own…”

12/10- Greg- “Trying not to do that with this choice. You know, this isn't really helping me decide, not when you're highlighting the downsides…”

13/10- Greg- “Progressive. Smart, firm when I have to be. Not overly nice, you will know I'm the boss.”

14/10- Greg- “If I decided to take the ownership, it's really like a slow raise. Or I sell it and make a windfall quick…”

#CharactersTell

15/10- Rolls in on those shoes with wheels inside “Duranta at your service, but everyone calls me Runta! Soul’s not so resident clothing designer and somewhat personal shopping friend to Tweet, if you must know.

16/10- Runta- laughs “Of course not! It takes money and patronage to become a designer who makes money. They wanted me to have a different sort of full time boring work.”

17/10- Runta- “I’ve made a few fashion week shows, and have some amazingly supportive fans who basically are fashion influencers in their own rights...” #spoilers

18/10- Runta- “Sure, I mean clothes and fashion is how you see a person, so of course people have stereotypes based on looks, but I don’t play that game.”

19/10- Runta- “Absolutely! Networking is a big part of what I do! Connections get me everywhere.”

20/10- Runta- “Total workaholic! A friend of mine says that if you love what you do, it’s not working, but living. And I am living for this life!”

21/10- Runta- “I learned a few things from the place I got my start. Hire people good at what they do, and that you can stand being around constantly. So yeah, the people who work for me become a family, since we’re together that much.”

#writer #game #twitter game #answers #charactershell #characterstell #nanowrimo #prep #romance #scifi

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