#bog hottie

[dismalrain]

I painted a hot bog lady!!

[bigchallenger]

dilf patrick

✎ dilf!patrick

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ didn't quite capture his essence but it felt cute . send requests i love this

patrick had never really felt attached to a person before-- not the way he felt attached to you, at least-- especially when it came to his dating life. patrick zweig did not date. patrick zweig had dreams, and he couldn't handle some silly "long-term serious relationship" bogging him down. the only thing patrick zweig was serious about was tennis. 

until he met you. until he met you and your eyes seemed to show him everything he had been missing for his entire life. it wasn't even a dealbreaker when he found out you were a whole decade younger. or when he found out you had a kid from a previous relationship. patrick zweig who was, though he'd never admit it himself, so afraid of relationships wasn't afraid of you. or your kid. he actually quite liked the kid and regarded him no differently than he'd regard one with his dna. 

when he was in town, he was always down to stay in with you two and watch a movie. cuddle on the couch like a real family. when he was away, he was constantly asking for pics and updates on the little guy. patrick had grown incredibly fond of you two without even realizing it, and suddenly fooling around with other hotties on tour didn't even cross his mind. what did cross his mind was when he'd get to go home next.

[cunty-mouse]

Nothing makes me sadder than being too bogged down in real life bullshit to be appropriately horny on the Sabbath... But I am hoping to be free in 90 minutes.... Drop some debauchery in my ask hole?

What have you blessed degenerates got on your minds?

Any thoughts on the You Don't Go Here Recs I've been serving? And requests for topics to find for you in future?

Found any new hotties or had any new filthy ideas?

Anything you would like from Santa's sack at this time of year? 👀

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Faust Love

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of faust Goethe: so this guy sells his soul to the devil to get the ultimate knowledge Goethe: oh the guy's name is faust by the way

Goethe: so part 1 is all about faust trying to bang this one hottie Goethe: part 2 is where we just go off the rails Goethe: he meets dante! Goethe: and the devil invents fiat currency! Goethe: we need to go back on the gold standard btw Barker: oh christ here we go

Goethe: so faust anyway is despairing about the vanity of scientific, humanistic, and religious scholarship Brian Yuzna: hey do you take creative criticism Goethe: yeah? Yuzna: this sucks

Yuzna: this is boring, people don't wanna hear about Faust the scholar Yuzna: they wanna hear about Faust the action star Goethe: Yuzna: see, what if Faust was like a vigilante with big old wolverine claws? Goethe: Goethe: that would be badass Yuzna: yes! exactly!

Yuzna: ok so what if faust sold his soul to the devil for revenge after some gangsters killed his girlfriend? Yuzna: but then the devil tricks him and is all 'ha ha now you have to kill the chinese ambassador for me!' Yuzna: 'make sure you make some wacky quips when you do it'

Goethe: why does the devil want to kill the chinese ambassador Yuzna: details! you're getting bogged down with details!

Yuzna: so the devil wants to use john jaspers to kill people Goethe: john who? Yuzna: john jaspers. that's what we call faust now Goethe: his name's not faust anymore? Yuzna: no no man get with the program! Yuzna: it's john jaspers Yuzna: we'll still call the story Faust tho

Goethe: aren't people going to be confused if we call the story faust but the guy isn't named faust? Yuzna: ok look Yuzna: when the devil kills him, we'll have him buried under a tombstone that says 'faust' Yuzna: happy?

Goethe: Goethe: but if his name is john jaspers why would the tombstone say Yuzna: oh my god i can't work under these conditions

Yuzna: ok so the devil has this sexy assistant with big tits Edward Lee: yeah boi Yuzna: you like that? well hold on to your hats Yuzna: cuz you're gonna love this

Yuzna: you like when a girl has big tits? Lee: you know it Yuzna: ok so picture this Yuzna: what if she turns into a wet blob monster made out of giant tits and ass cheeks Lee: Yuzna: pretty hot huh? Lee: Lee: Lee: i can work with that

Hailey Piper: i feel like this story is missing something Yuzna: what's that? Piper: dunno, just feeling the absence of a something that should have a certain thrill Yuzna: what Piper: and a certain smell Yuzna: what are you talking about Cynthia Pelayo: NO

[acourtofantumbra]

Was doing a deep dive for a future post about *gestures wildly* witches... Manon's lineage... cross-world connections... something I've found that feels actually tangible, maybe. Anyway, despite only dipping a toe into the ToD reread so far (I am not a ToD hater lol I'm just busy) I found myself checking a moment from KoA and took a nosedive into something immediately shinier. But it was so sudden I didn't have time to do my usual highlights/scribbles on my (currently dead) ipad so... enjoy my measly Kindle highlights.

I KNOW many folks have beautifully analyzed SJM's repeated character names because at one point SJM herself basically said, "I keep a record of all of them and I know what I've used."

I've seen folks flag important repeats for years now (we've seen this film before, A+ work, it keeps me up at night!), but the heavy hitters have been Briar, Thanatos, Cormac and even Ruhn (you know... the Erilean mountains and the hottie who knows 3 things).

So it stands to reason that repeated names might deserve some extra scrutiny... And I pray we get some pay off with that in CC3.

Anyway, as I'm pulling at the thread of ToG witches via our (my) favorite queen - Manon - I hadn't realized I fully forgot her dad's name. Frankly, of all the plot points from ToG, Manon's story's specifics were the haziest... except where Dorian is concerned I'm a mere mortal... and that has me suspicious regardless. Anywayyyy, as you can see above, it's Tristan. Tristan Crochan.

I cannot fully explain the cartwheel flip my brain did thumbing through the roladex of SJM's characters... because Tristan Flynn was not the energy my brain was ready for after reading this really sad passage about Manon's murdered family.

On my first read of the SJMU I went ACOTAR (long break between the original and ACOSF) -> CC -> TOG. And on my first TOG read, this passage triggered no alarm bells. I probably just didn't remember Flynn all that much. But after my CC reread... oh. I remember him. Don't you worry.

Now I am fan of Flynn. He's got a rakishness I simp for, I root for him and the dragon, and clocked his lordship woes despite having what we've all decided is a "hot dad". He's a good time. And Flynn feels like someone to watch! He makes an appearance in not one, but two, CC bonus chapters... and he's got a crush on the aforementioned dragon, who either was introduced for no reason or is gonna be a key player going forward. Or SJM is fucking with us. I don't have the answers.

But what I'm struck by Tristan-wise is a) the similarity in the little physical descriptors we get - brown hair, brown eyes and b) not actually Flynn-related... but a deeply similar sounding story to none other than the Autumn King. Daughter you didn't know was born to a woman you claim was your real love... check. Searching far and wide with a singular focus on recovering your daughter... check. Having another kid out of obligation and duty to continue on important bloodlines... check!!!

It might not have anything to do with Flynn at this current moment... but it's not implausible. Lord Flynn is of course a beloved frat-pack member living in a dump with his fellow bros. He specifically pops up in these bonus chapters going through the motions necessitated by his aristocratic bloodline. His mom/family is eager to marry him and his sister off - of course he seems miserable about the whole idea. But also resigned to it? It seems complicated. TLDR there's a world where Flynn's like "woof, yeah I gotta get married off but the heart wants what it wants!" There is precedent!

Also, I've been 👀 Flynn since it was flagged that he has "super rare earth powers" not commonly seen in Valbaran Fae... first off, what does that mean? Second, hot?!

Well I've done it again, so many words and nothing really of note to take away haha. I'll be honest, my mind was not in a Tristan Flynn headspace!! I'm kind of bogged down in my own thoughts about the witchier women of this multiverse... but in my dragon theory speculation Flynn popped up again and I really can't explain why random dead ends are turning up Tristan!!! I'm not mad about it, but I wish I understood.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Humor (2) Masterlist

part one

3 A.M. - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) michael/luke M, 4k

Summary: Five times Michael accidentally meets Luke in the bathroom and the one time he meets him there on purpose.

a change of heart and a silver lining (ao3) - bellawritess luke/calum T, 18k

Summary: Calum’s not obsessed with routine or anything, but he does become accustomed to certain constants in life. Michael is always about eight minutes late. Ashton always records vocals barefoot. Calum always knows the person behind the register at Bake Station.

Except today. Today it’s a stranger, though admittedly a stranger who looks enough like Jack that Calum can easily connect the dots.

“Hi there,” says the bloke in Jack’s place, giving Calum a bright smile. “What can I get for you today?”

If this is Luke Hemmings, Calum’s fucked.

(OR: wrong number AU and strangers to lovers bakery AU battled and this was the outcome.)

Between the Sheets - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 19k

Summary: Calum nods, very matter-of-fact. “I definitely know you.”

The guy smiles bigger, the so-familiar dimples getting deeper—even more recognizable now—his expression slightly incredulous. “Where from?”

“Oh, easy, from—” Calum stops. He blinks. He frowns. “Fuck, where do I know you from?”

or, the one where Calum recognizes the hot stranger in his record store from porn but doesn't realize it.

blue gatorade & strawberries (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 7k

Summary: “That’s actually why I’m here,” Calum says, causing Luke to frown in confusion.

“To haunt me?”

“To ask if I’m being too loud,” Calum replies with a lopsided smile. “My sister got me these badass speakers for graduation, but the subwoofer can be kind of intense, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t bothering you.”

“Oh, are you the asshole in 314 whose bass is making it impossible for me to quietly pine after my best friend?”

Commit to the Bit - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/calum E, 6k

Summary: Calum and Luke's sweet sexy time is rudely interrupted by Michael, but he makes up for it by inadvertently giving a helping hand... or jump?

crimson and cream (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: Luke’s it for Calum. He’s always kind of known it, he’s just been patient. Waiting for some intangible thing that will make the time right. He’s not waiting for Luke to realize Calum’s it for him too. Luke also already knows. He just hasn’t quite realized he deserves to have what he wants.

Doggy Style - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) calum/ashton, michael/luke E, 16k

Summary: Calum and Ashton aren’t allowed to have pets in their building. So, when their landlord finds a leash in their apartment, Calum has to come up with a quick lie to explain its presence.

farmer's market hottie (ao3) - sunsetmagnolia T, 3k

Summary: “He’s cute,” Luke reports. “But you were right about him looking like he doesn’t shower.” “That’s because he doesn’t,” Michael says.

home is wherever you are tonight (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton M, 72k

Summary: Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.

Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny coastal island that needs some work. He didn’t plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.

i can’t keep drowning in the shadows (you’re the only one that matters) (ao3) - beecosmic calum/ashton T, 4k

Summary: After years he’s reached acceptance - he’s totally in love with and gone for Ashton Irwin.

So that’s how he finds himself dressed as a fucking egg, staring at himself in the mirror as he’s contemplating their entire friendship.

Or, in which Calum never really learned how to say no to Ashton.

in a big red bow (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 7k

Summary: 5 times Calum checks out Luke’s ass and 1 time he finally gets to touch it.

minute suite dreams (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 10k

Summary: The attendant disappears down the hall, and Luke finally gets a good look at the place he and Calum will be spending the night.

“Oh fuck,” Luke murmurs under his breath, wheeling his suitcase into the space and looking back at Calum apologetically. “It’s, uh. Small.”

Serial stranger (ao3) - Calumthoodshands (tndart) luke/calum G, 2k

Summary: Every Sunday, Calum spends his day in the park, watching people, sketching the world, all by himself. Until Luke shows up: limping, with a cute dog, and with more than just one unexpected revelation.

space may be the final frontier but it's made in a hollywood basement (ao3) - kingscrossinseptember calum/ashton, michael/luke T, 6k

Summary: Of course they agreed to do it. When they’d been asked, they’d already signed several NDAs, so it wasn’t as though they could just pretend the whole interaction never happened. Plus, how badass would it be to fool the entire world into thinking people had landed on the moon?

or, 5 times Calum saw Ashton while faking the moonlanding, plus 1 time they met up without a government conspiracy ;)

the story needs some mending (and a better happy ending) (ao3) - bellawritess michael/ashton T, 5k

Summary: “‘Let's see a witch,’” Ashton says. “‘It’ll be fine, Ashton. What could go wrong?’”

“I didn't say witch, I said psychic! How was I meant to know she was both?”

“From the sign!” Ashton says, gesturing emphatically at an A-board whose advertised PSYCHIC/WITCH SERVICES couldn't be more clearly outlined.

Michael tries to grumble but only manages a rumbly croak. “Look, you're fine. I'm the one who’s a bloody frog.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Ashton sing-songs.

Tidal Pleasures - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) ot4 E, 2k

Summary: Calum (6:00 pm): @ ash you feel my what now

Michael (6:00 pm): ur tidal pleasures cal dont play dumb

touch (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton E, 6k

Summary: Everyone who’s seen Ashton knows how large his hands are. They’re massive, with palms nearly as big as the entirety of his face and slender, long fingers all dressed in cuts and blisters from drumming with all his might. Even in their teenage years, Ashton’s hands have always been mesmerizing to Luke, especially comparing the size difference between their hands. Ashton’s has always dwarfed Luke’s in a way that no one else’s ever has before and probably never will again.

One thought that has somehow never plagued his mind is how absolutely devastatingly large Ashton’s hand looks on his thigh.

voice of reason (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 5k

Summary: Luke’s definitely, absolutely, 100% sure he’s not addicted to the voice of the guy on his sleep podcast. 

we attract what we're ready for (ao3) - bellawritess luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: “You know, Ashton said he only asked for my number because his friend Luke was too chicken to do it himself,” Calum says. “That’s a quote. I’m not calling you a chicken.”

“Ashton’s such a shit,” Luke says, shutting the washing machine and hitting the start button. He turns with his arms folded across his chest. Calum’s watching him curiously. “You were the star of the show,” Luke says uncomfortably. “That’d be like seeing a concert and then trying to get the lead singer’s number at the meet and greet.”

“I strongly disagree with that comparison,” Calum says, “but I see where you’re coming from. However, counterpoint: I’m clearly not a big deal since I am currently standing here waiting for someone’s laundry to be done. Do you think footie stars have to wait for other people’s laundry?”

we don’t have to live forever, we don’t have to settle down (ao3) - bellawritess michael/calum T, 1k

Summary: “Fuck it,” Calum says, collapsing over Michael and Luke’s laps on the couch. “ I quit. I’m gonna become a farmer.”

[beefrobeefcal]

BB! The light of my life! My sun and stars!

Many, MANY congratulations on your 900 followers. It's such an incredible accomplishment, and yet it feels like just the beginning. The work you do for all of us is so valuable, and it is my wish that all the hotties on Tumblr.com come (hehe 😋) to stumble upon your page, as I did one fateful day many moons ago.

Here are my colors for you:

Red

Green

Lavender

Orange

Turquoise

Pink

You mean so very much to me! American tax season is being a real bitch, per usual, but once these 7004s and 1042s and 3522s go in the mail, I'm re-binging your entire library. I love you! Here's to 900 — nay, 9,000 — more! 🍻😘🥩💜🥵🥵🥵💦

[in reference to this post]

Lovey, you are just the best thing since they figured out how to cultivate bananas. I am so blessed and happy that you're in my life - even if we both get busy and bogged down by the day to day. I always know you're just a dm away and your thirst for Frankie supersedes my own!

I would say that every colour you hurled at me, I would catapult back tenfold to you bc you're just that special and important. I would even go so far to add BLUE to that pile before slinging it at you [bc you're that fuckin awesome!].

Never stop filling my dms with you-know-what 😏 and keep being the best thing you can be - you.

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

[breitzbachbea]

Would love to know more about ancient Naples' government in the 3rd century BCE. Decent chance Rome is already here, but let's hope not. Because I am still obsessed with Francesco as Strategos that NO ONE TRUSTS but the Vargas are in charge. Because everyone thinks SURELY the brilliant general and devious schemer wants power for himself, this man is just waiting to become a tyrant. But what no one wants to realize is that Francesco only wants enough power to have fun and to play chess on the both smallest and biggest scale. Also, he looks good in the big feathery hat. What he doesn't want? Responsibility that bogs him down. Running shit? Being responsible? Eurgh. No, let me be your most fuckable advisor and strategist. Do you know how irrestible I look on a horse? Maybe we can win Syracuse simply by the King and his hetairoi wanting to fuck me. I heard they're hotties.

[mothermara]

If you think about it, Maces and Savtreid's romance is a subversion of the beautiful woman falls for the unprepossessing man trope. by making maces a total fucking hottie who is completely and hideously down bad for a monstrous bog witch

[mrsbsmooth]

Argh, why why why! Couldn't Amelia be sent home?!?! I'm so fed up with her "private chats" love bog off!

First, she went for Zeph apparently, then after Marshall I was grafting him, then finally hottie Toby comes in and he's all about her! Hello, we are twins!! I want Toby 😫 Lewie is giving me the ick and I don't like any of the other boys. This isn't fair 😢 can we go back to season 1 where everyone wanted MC seems Amelia is the MC 🤬 I'm so taking the money this season if MC doesn't get first pick at the recoupling 🤣

you get the hell off my blog

no but fr i'm so sorry to all the toby girlies this really is a big RIP from me

[stevensaus]

Neurospicy Movie Triple Feature: Asteroid City, No Hard Feelings, And Corner Office

Spoilers for Asteroid City, No Hard Feelings, and Corner Office. I'd already realized the difference between The Big Bang Theory and Community by the time this scene aired: In the midst of an episode, Dean Pelton turns to Abed, who is a character clearly coded as neurodivergent. "Abed, you're ... special," the Dean says. Can't you just stand at the scene of the crime and see what happened?" Abed replies: "I see a man. Using a social disorder as a procedural device. Wait, wait, wait. Mildly autistic super detectives everywhere. Basic cable. Broadcast networks. Pain. Painful writing. It hurts." That was well before I realized that I was at least partially under that umbrella. And it seems like recent movies sure don't want me to forget it. {1} When I told a friend that I'd recently seen Wes Anderson's Asteroid City, he nearly turned up his nose. "I don't like Anderson. I don't get the whimsy." I replied. "I don't think it's whimsical at all. I think it might be neurodivergent." I've since seen a few other folks -- sadly, I lost the links -- comment on this as well. The plot of Asteroid City -- barring one fantastical incident -- is a bog-standard 20th century American "literary" story. Aside from Anderson's distinctive cinematography, the element that makes these films "whimsical" is that everyone says what they are thinking, directly, out loud, in near-monotones. Instead of a flirting wink and half smile, a character might say: "I suddenly find you attractive and would like to take you home tonight." The target of their affections might respond: "I am feeling the pang of loneliness, and hope to find some distraction from my own mortality in the pleasures of the flesh. I accept." Look at the trailer for Asteroid City or The Grand Budapest Hotel. The stylized behavior is demonstrated in both. If you're thinking something like "that sounds a lot like looking at the world through a kind of neurospicy lens," I'm right there with you. But twisting a familiar shape of story through that lens before it gets to me ... well, it's not whimsical. While there are benevolent violations left and right, they do not feel funny to me... just matter of fact. As a result, while I do appreciate the cinematography and style, I really don't know whether or not I enjoyed Asteroid City, or even if I experienced anything like Anderson intended. I stand by what I said about No Hard Feelings, but I want to expand on the footnote I put at the end. Andrew Barth Feldman’s character in No Hard Feelings — who sure came across coded neurospicy to me — adapts pretty suspiciously quickly to being out of his comfort zone in the final third. But I’ll forgive the film that due to the fact that it also does not demand that his character change and conform to "normal" society either. One of the clever things about this film is how it seems to steer right into some really problematic waters, but then quickly end up going in a direction I wasn't expecting. Feldman's character is one of them, a clearly neurospicy kid (and family) who is coaxed into being more "social" by the local hottie. Except that isn't what happens in the film. Lawrence's character might have been the hottie, but she's feeling age, hard living, and the weight of the past. Feldman's likewise sidesteps most -- not all -- of the easy jokes at the expense of the "weird kid." Instead of the tropes of either being rejected or conforming, the characters of both Feldman and Lawrence (who turns in an amazing performance) strike out to make their own ways, on their own terms. They must interact with the world, yes, but they are not defined by other's expectations of them, nor are they willing to put aside their own needs and desires for another's convenience. While Feldman's depiction of neurodivergence plays strongly into the stereotypical autistic traits that used to be called "Asperger's," and the character becomes more social suspiciously quick, I found his portrayal and the script both strongly empathic toward neurodivergence while still acknowledging how silly things can get sometimes. The trailer is NSFW. Which brings us to Corner Office. The film was adapted from The Room by Jonas Karlsson, which we'll come back to in a second. Rob Hamm's character is our neurospicy protagonist, again leaning fairly heavily into the stereotypical traits that keep getting portrayed as the only traits. The plot is fairly simple: Hamm's character arrives at a new job, and works to integrate himself with the strange new office culture. And then he discovers a room, a nicely appointed but unused office that only he can see or experience. But when he's in that office, suddenly everything seems to just work ... better. He's more efficient. His analyses and reports improve dramatically. Still, to everyone else, there is no door to the office, just a blank wall. When Hamm's character is in the office, all that anyone else can see is that he's standing and staring at the wall, practically unresponsive. At one level, it's pretty bog-standard magical realism. At another level, it's an elaborate metaphor for being neurospicy and working in modern office culture alongside allistics. Hamm's character is constantly trying to figure out what everyone else is thinking or doing -- and not-infrequently, getting it wrong. He is bothered by sensory stimuli. He knows that he has skills, and wants to use them. He is not particularly interested in power for power's sake. Arbitrary rules that make no sense are rationalized away. And when things get to be too much, he enjoys being able to get away to a serene place without the buzzing fluorescents and drop ceilings. There, he can collect his thoughts. He is more productive. He feels better after spending some time in this secret office, even if his actions look incomprehensible to the others in the office. Yeah, it's a metaphor for stimming, meltdowns, and shutdowns. It was very uncomfortable for me to watch. Hamm's character -- or at least his inner monologue -- is entirely too close to my own thoughts in the past. I recently saw a TikTok explaining part of why a lot of autistic folx have problems with employment. This is frighteningly close to my own experiences at a prior employer. While that TikTok explains in words what is going on, Corner Office ends up evoking what it felt like. That made the book review of The Room (the book Corner Office came from) all the more disturbing -- and makes the experience of Corner Office all the more necessary. Utterly convinced of his own superiority, is a know-it-all, entirely lacking in self-knowledge: he is the office weirdo, the outsider. “I worked out a personal strategic framework. I arrived half an hour early each morning and followed my own timetable for the day: fifty-five minutes of concentrated work, then a five-minute break. Including toilet breaks. I avoided any unnecessary socialising along the way.” -- Ian Sansom in The Guardian The disdain and derision is palpable. As Mad In America put it back in 2021 (linking to papers in Nature and The Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders: Allistic peers are less likely to interact with autistic people because of immediate and unconscious negative judgments that are based purely on social communication style, and not substance. Autistic people are also often perceived by neurotypicals as deceptive or lacking credibility. After watching Corner Office, Sansom's critique feels as though it is a critique of a neurodivergent protagonist who simply is getting through a strange and confusing environment as best he can. Perhaps the allistics will find Corner Office "whimsical." I hope not. To me, it is a claustrophobic exploration of what it feels like to be neurodivergent and working in the allistic world. I hope that rather than being held up as another Sheldon to mock and belittle, Hamm's portrayal will help some grok what it's like for us. {1} I'm still on that journey, figuring out what labels and terms are useful and which ones should be discarded. So -- along with the truism that if you've met one neurospicy person, you've met one neurospicy person -- these impressions are wholly mine and shouldn't be mistaken as if I'm speaking for any neurodivergent community. Read the full article

[mighty-mitte]

Tent life had served her decently well, over the years. She missed it, but stealing a tent high quality enough to keep the sun entirely at bay would probably not be an easy ask, if such a thing even existed. Maybe she could borrow Kristoff's phone for a bit and look it up. "I live in an apartment now, if you have any suggestions for dealing with the noise neighbours make."

Mitte shrugged, not having put too much stock in the idea-- generally the troubles of the town were low on her list of concerns, given how simple it was to pick up and leave. Probably not a fantastic idea, but doable. "Things in Swynlake are rarely coincidence." She advised anyway, "but y'know, you brought up the Blackwells. Not so long ago I'd bet the vampire populace outweighed the wolves." There had been Anthony too, obviously, and the siblings-- Mitte felt bad, she'd sort of done her best to burn their names out of her head, not wanting to get too bogged down in wondering what had become of them.

"I slept with one of them once, and I've had better." Mitte recalled on a snort of laughter, carrying on before her new friend could get too alarmed, "before he was a wolf, you know, obviously." Although if anyone could push past base instincts to bed a hottie... "No. None of them have given me any trouble. Safe haven, hm? Co-existing is the name of the game."

@belladonna-wright

Daughters of the Night - Missie

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter 5

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

Mrs. Stark was seated on the couch, her back to Peter as she spoke affectionately to someone on her phone. She was obviously preoccupied and missed his quietly entering the room, as she continued talking. “I know you want to see me, sweetheart, and I miss you, too—so desperately, but things are a little crazy right now.” A pause. “I know that I promised you a special date just the two of us, but I can’t get away from the city until things are settled and you know this.” Another pause. “Morgan, please—“

In his haze, Peter registered the name, Morgan, and almost wondered who he was? The lethargy that had washed over him weighted him where he stood and he almost felt like he was supposed to react to Mrs. Stark’s words, be curious at least? But he could barely...

FRIDAY interrupted the moment. “Apologies for the interruption, Mrs. Boss, but Boss is on his way up.”

Mrs. Stark called out a quick, “Thank you, FRIDAY,” then came back to her call. She muttered a tender, “I’ve gotta go. I love you, baby,” and hung up the phone. She stood up from the couch and gasped, her hand flying to her chest as she noticed Peter for the first time. “Oh! Peter! How long have you been standing there?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she hid her phone behind her guiltily.

He heard her question, shrugged in reply, and looked down at the floor as he tried to process that he couldn’t process what was happening in that moment. The almost indifference was giving way to discomfort as his brain tried to filter out the garbage bogging him down. “Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt... it seemed important?”

She looked uncomfortable, at least to Peter, but he really wasn’t sure of anything in that moment. “Peter, I should explain—“ She gestured to her phone she’d brought forward, but her words were cut off when the elevator doors in the penthouse foyer opened and footsteps echoed on the marble floor.

Mr. Stark entered the living room and grinned big. “Ah, my beautiful family! Exactly the people I wanted to see!” he announced. “I have news from the med bay!”

That tweaked something more in Peter, and his attention was diverted away from Mrs. Stark and the mystery Morgan to his mentor. “I can see May?” he asked quietly.

Mr. Stark nodded emphatically. “You bet you can, kid.” He laughed at something to himself then continued. “She was asleep when I got there so I had a chance to talk to the doc in person for an update. He was just getting around to telling me that we couldn’t come around today when May woke up.” Mr. Stark laughed a little harder. “Needless to say, you are definitely seeing her today.”

Peter felt what must have been the first spark of a real smile in ages. “Really?”

Mr. Stark took a step closer to the boy, then put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Of course, buddy. We’re just gonna give the nurses a chance to help her put on her game face and as soon as she’s ready, they’ll call, but for now...”  

Peter’s shoulders sagged under the weight of Mr. Stark’s hand as he realized, “Now we wait.”

Mr. Stark gave an oddly grounding squeeze and pulled Peter into a firm hug. “Yeah, bud. Now we wait... but she’s as eager as you, so it won’t be too long, I’m sure of it.”

Peter shivered as he pressed further into Mr. Stark’s chest. The haze of the last little while was lifting and he felt a little unsteady so he closed his eyes and breathed in as he clung to the one thing in his life that seemed to have changed the least.

“Hey, sweetheart, not going to hassle you, but did the shower help?” Mr. Stark whispered into his hair. “Are you feeling a little better now?”

He nodded a yes, choosing to ignore whatever it was that was going on with Mrs. Stark in order to address his previous outburst. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Stark. I’ll fix the wall. I promise.” He pulled back and shifted to peek around Mr. Stark to Mrs. Stark but refusing to let go. “And I’m sorry if I scared you earlier, Mrs. Stark. It won’t happen again. I swear... I don’t even...” He tried to explain that he wasn’t like that, that he didn’t know where the anger had come from—well, he did, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to show it— He huffed in frustration as he struggled to find the right words.

Mrs. Stark stepped closer, smiled softly, and stopped Peter’s apology before he could completely short circuit. “I know, Peter, and it really is alright. I know that you’d never hurt me, I was just surprised, is all. Thank you for the apology, though. I appreciate it... and don’t worry about the wall, please. It should be fixed by the end of the day.”

Peter felt his cheeks pink with embarrassment and he ducked back into the safety of Mr. Stark’s arms. “Thank you... and I’m still sorry.”

Mr. Stark gave him an extra squeeze in acknowledgement then said nothing more.

It was a few seconds later when Peter could sense movement behind Mr. Stark—then his humming and shaking his head in response to whatever it was that Mrs. Stark was apparently silently communicating to him.

“Pete?” Mrs. Stark spoke up. “We need to talk to you about—”

“Boss, Mrs. Parker is requesting Mr. Parker’s presence in the med bay.” FRIDAY alerted the room. “She has asked me to play back her request directly. She says, ‘Tony, if you make me wait a second longer than I have to to see my kid, I’m gonna tell Pepper about that time you—‘” FRIDAY cut off the recording. “Apologies for the disruption in playback, while you can gauge the seriousness of her request, per your ’Admit Nothing’ protocol, I have determined it is not in your best interest to play the entire recording, sir.”  

Mr. Stark snort laughed, “Thanks, FRI, you’re a gem,” he replied and hugged Peter tight one last time before letting him go. “Well, kid. You heard the AI! Aunt May is waiting!” Mr. Stark led him to the elevator.

Peter didn’t hesitate to follow and made it half way across the room when—

“Peter, can you wait a moment, please!” Mrs. Stark called out.

Peter cringed at the delay, but turned around to face her. “Um, okay?”

“Peter, I... we,” she glanced toward Mr. Stark, “We still need to talk to you about a couple of things—“

Peter was fighting down the impatience, and Mr. Stark must have seen it. He cut her off. “Pep. We can talk about this later on, can’t we? He’s been waiting a week and May will kill me literally dead if he’s not there soon.”

She looked flustered, and Peter almost cared, but she’d been hiding something earlier, now that Peter’s brain was firing back up he was sure of it—and he couldn’t make himself worry about it anymore, especially when he needed to get to May.

She paused, seemed to consider, and then, “Fine. But can we please make the time to talk about things later? Maybe over lunch?”

Peter was making no plans beyond the med bay, but he knew that wouldn’t fly so he agreed. “Yeah, sure. Lunch.” He looked between the two. “Can I go now?”

Mrs. Stark looked at her husband, who stared back goofily at her. She smiled, then he smiled, and like that, Mr. Stark was on the move with him again.

And then Peter wasn’t so sure he wanted the company anymore. “Mr. Stark, would it be okay if I went alone?”

“Are you sure you’re up for that? I mean, I know you’d be okay if you do go alone, but there could be a lot going on in that room that you may have questions about and I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.” Mr. Stark was concerned and had no issue with voicing it. “I don’t have to stay for long, just until I know you’re comfortable, and—“

“And I appreciate that. I do. It’s just...” Peter wasn’t sure he could find the words to convey how badly he needed it to be just them. “Please?”

Peter could see Mr. Stark struggling with it. There was no good reason that Peter could think of for Mr. Stark to let him go alone except that he wanted it. And the man was right. He was already anxious and he hadn’t even made it to the elevator yet. Peter was about to give up on the request altogether when Mr. Stark broke into his thoughts.

“Fine, you can go alone, but you have FRI call me if you change your mind, okay? I’ll be there in two minutes. No questions. No judgement.”

“Really?” Peter asked.

“Yes, and we expect to see you back here for lunch when she gets tired of you, alright?” Mr. Stark teased.

“Yessir.”

Mr. Stark glared.

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Alright then, you heathen, begone.” Mr. Stark pointed toward the elevator with a wink. “Don’t make me regret this. And you’d better tell Aunt Hottie that you’re kiss and grounding were both delivered as requested, got it? I told her but I don’t think she believes me.”

“I will.” Peter promised and then waited only a few seconds for the elevator doors to open and finally make his way down to the med bay. He focussed on the next while and how this reunion would go. Aunt May was going to be so happy to see him, he thought. It had been the two of them for so long, and he wished that she hadn’t had to go through all these years without him. But he was back now and things would get better. They had to, right? As the elevator descended, though, his thoughts started to twist. What if it wasn’t better? He knew logically that things were different now-- for him it had been a week and five years and forever and no time at all and all Peter knew was that he didn’t need to say a word to her; only wanted to curl up beside his favourite Aunt and never leave her again.

And she was sick.

The elevator doors opened and Peter froze.

Maybe he’d made a mistake?

“Mr. Parker, we have arrived at the med bay floor.” FRIDAY said.

Peter didn’t move, but he could feel himself getting worked up.

And so could FRIDAY. “Mr. Parker. While still within normal parameters, your breathing, pulse, and heart rate are elevating rapidly. Might I suggest a few deep breaths in order to regulate them?”

Peter still didn’t move... couldn’t move.

“Very well, initiating ‘Meltdown Management Mode’ now.”

The elevator doors closed and for a second Peter thought that the AI would return him to the penthouse and he’d lose his chance to see Aunt May, and his breathing picked up more. He gasped out a “no!”

The elevator stayed where it was, but its lights softened and the canned muzak that had played in the background was replaced by soothing ocean sounds. “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Parker. Please try to match your breaths to the count, Mr. Parker.” FRIDAY instructed softly. “Breathe in, 2, 3, 4, and out 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6.”    

It took a couple of cycles, but eventually Peter picked up the rhythm and within a few minutes, Peter was feeling a little more like himself. “Um, thanks, FRIDAY,” Peter called out to the AI. “That was... unexpected.” And he didn’t know if he was talking about the freak out or the assist.

“Yes,” FRIDAY interrupted. “Due to the random nature of anxiety and panic attacks, Boss has found the protocol to be quite useful over the last five years. He will be glad to know that it has been of use to someone else.”

The thought of Mr. Stark knowing he’d freaked out AGAIN was not okay. That he couldn’t manage to make his way down a few floors without breaking down? “Yeah, um, FRIDAY, do you think you could not tell Mr. Stark about this? I mean, I’m fine, right?”

The elevator fell silent for a brief moment then, “When this protocol was first initiated, Boss required that Mrs. Boss was notified each time it was initiated. There is no specific protocol requirement for you, Mr. Parker. You’re vitals are indicating that you are still experiencing some stress, but they are steady and within normal parameters. I see no reason to report this at this time, but if Boss asks, I will be required to inform him.”

Peter could have slumped with relief... or exhaustion. The constant ups and downs were messing him up big time, and he hated it, but at least he’d remembered his manners. “Thank you, FRIDAY.

“You are welcome, Mr. Parker. Are you ready for me to open the elevator doors now?”

Peter steeled himself and then answered, “Please?”

“Of course,” the AI replied. “Enjoy your visit with Mrs. Parker.”

The doors slid open and Peter stepped out into the waiting room of what was his second home—well, third. First was May’s, then the penthouse with Mr. Stark, and then...

“Peter?”

He turned towards the familiar voice, smiling as he saw one of his favourite nurses walking towards him, “Lydie?” Her hair was cut shorter than he’d remembered it and was dyed a vibrant red. Definitely different, but still definitely her, thank goodness.

“Peter, you haven’t aged a day! Get over here!” She enveloped him in one of those awesome hugs she’d give him when he’d wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night after he’d finally convinced May or Mr. Stark to finally go and get some sleep in their own beds. “I missed you so much!”

And Peter had exactly zero idea of what to say back. ‘You, too,’ wasn’t true. In his reality, he’d seen her two weeks ago when a he’d been triple-teamed by a trio of wanna-be ninja muggers with zero throwing star skills and just enough luck to land a star smack in the back at his shoulder blade. He mumbled a “Thanks,” and pulled away.  

He’d hoped she’d realize his discomfort, but Lydie was always one to talk and it seemed like this time was no different. She pointed down a hallway Peter didn’t think he’d ever been down before and started walking. “I know you’re here to see May so let me catch you up while I take you to her—so...”

Apparently it only took the length of a long hallway to find out about the life and times of all those who had been left behind. Peter tried to focus, but the moment Lydie had mentioned May again, his stomach had knotted and he did everything he could to use FRIDAY’s breathing techniques without being too obvious.

“...and here we go.” Lydie stopped walking and pointed into the closed door to the left. “Before you go in, though, we’re just gonna gown you up, okay?”

“What?”

She brought Peter over to a station stocked with gloves, gowns, caps, and masks. “Yeah, we want to be sure that we don’t bring any uninvited germs into the room with us while she’s already fighting this infection—or carry any out, for that matter.”

Peter almost recoiled. “I could make her more sick?” He hadn’t even thought about that and suddenly worried that his shower hadn’t been enough.

“Don’t be silly, Peter.” She chided him. “We’re only doing this as a precaution and I know how anxious May is to see you, so let’s go. Chop, chop.”

Peter got to it right away and tried not to feel ridiculous in his new oversized get up even as Lydie looked almost identical.

Lydie’s eyes smiled at him encouragingly. “Alright, are you ready?”

He didn’t answer, but she wasn’t waiting for him to as she pushed the door open and grabbed his arm to drag him inside with her.

“May, I hope you’re decent. You’ve got a gentleman caller here!” Lydie sang out softly as she peeked through the curtains surrounding her bed.

Peter heard the rustling of sheets and a groggy, “Wha—Lydie?”

Lydie glanced back at him, gestured for him to wait and ducked behind the curtain. “May?” Lydie whispered, quiet enough that it was only because of Peter’s enhanced hearing that he could make out the words. “May, can you wake up a little more? You dozed off on me.”

“Oh?” The sheets rustled some more. “Oh, no,” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to— is he gone? Did I miss him?“

A monitor beeped in warning.

“Shh, shh, shh. May, it’s okay. Take a deep breath. It’s fine. He’s waiting for the all clear before he comes in. I know he’s fallen asleep on you plenty of times so don’t sweat it.” Lydie really was the best.

Another beep, this one a press of something on a machine.

And then the sound of stifling tears.

“May, honey, oh. No-no-no, don’t do that, May. He’s back now.” Lydie comforted her, not bothering to lower her voice. “Peter’s just on the other side of the curtain and he thinks he’s hiding it, but he’s nervous, too.” Peter heard Lydie pull a tissue from a box and pass it to May.

May sniffed, then blew her nose and squeaked out, “Peter’s really here?”

“You know I wouldn’t lie to you, May, and he’s probably wondering what’s taking you so long.”

“Yeah.” May took a deep breath and then another. Peter could hear her and Lydie doing a last minute straighten up. “Okay.” May whispered. “How do I look?”

“Like a million bucks.” Lydie reassured her. “Now, can I open these curtains before he loses his mind?”

May must have nodded because the curtain was slowly dragged back to reveal the most important person in Peter’s universe, propped up in the bed and fussing with the long braid trailing down the front of her hospital gown.

And Peter stood there frozen, mere feet away from her bed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish behind the mask. “May?” The woman in front of him looked like a weak imitation of the woman he’d left only a week ago to head to school and that stupid MOMA field trip. The yellowed, swollen face and hands screamed sickness, punctuated by the heavy scent of medicated creams, antiseptic, and blood. They’d at least made an effort to disguise the various machines surrounding her, but the curtains and draped blankets couldn’t camouflage the nasal cannula—and the delicately flowered robe she wore over the medbay gown did little to hide the tubing still connected to her IV or the dialysis machine Peter guessed she’d been hooked up to since that call in Wakanda that morning. His stomach turned at the sight of it all so he concentrated again on her face. There, he could see the flush of fever in her cheeks and a glassiness in her eyes. She looked exhausted.

He didn’t know what to do.  

She looked just as stunned as Peter, though for completely different reasons. “Peter?” May stared at the boy and then scowled at Lydie. “I swear, Lydie, on the soul of my dead mother. If you don’t get all that shit off my kid so I can see him for real, I will make sure that you never find that stupid blush nail polish you swear by again—and I know people so I can make it happen.”

Lydie threw her hands up in apology. “May, you know that I can’t. Dr. Bonwick has orders—“

“I don’t care, Lydie.” she huffed. “I’ve waited too long to see that face.” May turned her attention back to Peter. “You heard me,” she pointed to his medical gear with a look of distaste. “All of that garbage off, now.”

He wanted to listen to her, honest, but she was sick and the reality of it had smacked him in the face. There was no way he’d risk—

“Peter.” Peter recognized the tone anywhere. It was the same tone that made sure his homework got done before patrol, that his bedroom was cleaned before heading to Ned’s, and that got wet towels off the bathroom floor and an apple in his hand before he ran out the door to school. Yeah. Peter knew better than to dawdle. The fabric gown and its accessories were in a laundry bin in the corner of the room in half a minute and he stood ready for inspection.  

May beamed with joy as she gazed upon him. “There’s my Peter,” she exclaimed. “Now get your ass over here and give me a hug before I lose my mind, you goofball.”

Peter rushed up to the bed, hesitating when he reached the railing of the bed. “Uh... what should I—“

Lydie, who’d tucked herself inconspicuously away to work in the corner of the room, came forward to help. “C’mon, Peter, you know as well as anyone how these beds work.” She teased as she did her nurse magic, lowering the railing.

“I know how the bed works,” he insisted as he tried to ignore the fear that one wrong move would hurt her. “I’m trying to be careful, is all.”

May was having none of that. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, sweetheart.” She leaned forward and opened her arms, now seriously. “Please?”

Peter was in her arms in a blink, fighting back tears as May finally gave in to hers. Neither of them said a word as they revelled in their reunion. Only a week and five years- five years- She’d waited for him for so long.

Peter whispered, “I didn’t mean to go, May, I swear,” as he burrowed into her.

She buried her face in his hair and tried to breathe in the scent of him, like she'd done his whole life. "I know, baby. I know." May reassured him. She shifted slightly, started pushing the pillows supporting her aside.

Peter panicked. "Oh! I'm hurting you! I'm so sorry!"  He pulled back and away, "I'm gonna—"

May grabbed his hand. "No, Peter. You're not hurting me at all. I just need to move- these- damn- pillows." She ground out the words while she tried to readjust.

"I can do it!" Peter declared, jostling the pillows about. “I’ll just—“ He shifted the pillows Aunt May, just a little, but the ones behind her seemed determined to keep her from completely relaxing, if he was reading her body language right. “Maybe if I—“ He slipped off the bed and started looking for the controls to set the bed at a better angle.

Lydie stepped in again, “Peter, here. Let me help—“

“No!” He replied loudly, surprising everyone in the room. He pressed on, moving May’s blankets in his hunt. “I’ve got this. I’m just gonna adjust the bed and make sure that May’s comfortable.”

“I know, Peter, but if I help—“

“Look, Lydie, I’ve got this, okay?” Not finding the controls, he moved around to the other side of the bed. “It’s the least I can do after all this time, right?” He tried to laugh at the little dig but sounded more like he was choking. They had to think he was losing his mind.

“Peter.” May called to him. “Come on. You’re fuss-farting around for a bed controller.” She patted the empty space beside her. “Let’s do a snuggle party like when you were little instead.” She held out her arms in welcome again and that was all Peter needed.

He clamoured up onto the bed again and tried to squeeze in beside her as she shifted to give him room, just like she’d asked.

Lydie watched the exchange sadly and smiled, “I’m going to give you two some time,” and exited the room. Peter was sure she hadn’t gone far.

“I remember you being smaller, buster.” She teased.

Peter rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Are moms obligated to say cheesy stuff like that? Like, is it in the secret mom rulebook?”

“Now, Peter,” she grinned slyly as she looked down at him. “You know if I told you, I’d have to kill you—now, c’mon.” She eased herself a little further to one side of the bed and sighed in brief relief as she settled. “Get closer.”

He did try. Oh, how he wanted to be held in her arms and have her tell him everything was going to be okay, but gentle teasing couldn’t hide the limitations of the IV tube he’d interrupt if he laid this way—or the access site on her other side if he shifted that way.

May giggled through a new round of tears as they struggled to find a hold that wouldn’t cause her harm. “Wow, if we ever thought we could ignore the elephant in the room, huh?”  

Peter stopped his wiggling. “May, don’t... I... I... ” He couldn’t speak so he sat himself up, twisting and turning away from her. He buried his face in his hands and started to tremble.

He was going to lose her.

He could feel her pulling herself up, trying to get closer to him. Peter jumped off the bed. “No! You need to lie down, May. Please.” He pressed her gently back into her pillow pile. “I’m gonna grab a chair, okay?”

“Peter, stop it. Get back up here,” she ordered, watching him work his way up to another freak out.

But he couldn’t... he just couldn’t.

Instead, Peter grabbed the straight backed chair rested against the wall and, in a flash, seated himself at her bedside. “Nah, I need you comfortable, May...” He grinned big and insincere, “And you know I’m a bed hog. Really! This is probably way better for you.” He focussed on his hands as they twisted at her blankets. “Just until you feel a little better, please?”

She didn’t bother to hide as her frustration shifted to concern. “Peter, please. I know this is strange,” She reached out to grab his hands, stopping him. “But we’re gonna get through this. Okay?”

Peter slid his hands out from under hers, then gently laid his on hers, but could say nothing. A part of him had thought that maybe... just maybe Mr. Stark had been overstating things so that Peter would find relief at things not being so bad. But Mr. Stark would never have done something like that. Peter had just been wrong. His vacillating between hope and impending doom stopped exactly then.

He knew all about Parker Luck, after all.

He gave May’s hands a squeeze, kissed them, then pulled away. He could feel the greasiness of lotion against his lips, and forced himself to ignore it. “You should lie down, May. I don’t want you to get more tired because of me.”

“Peter. I’ll worry about me, alright?” May lightly scolded. “But I’m also gonna worry about you, got it.” She cupped his cheek and tried to catch his eye. “We’ll need to talk about this eventually, sweetheart.”

He closed his eyes and prayed for strength, “I know...” he choked out. “But can it not be now?”

May didn’t say anything for a moment before agreeing. “Alright... but soon? Hiding your head in the sand does nothing but leave your butt exposed for that big kick in the pants you’re trying to avoid, and you know it.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t have a choice.

The last two Parkers clasped hands again and sat silent for a moment; May savoured his presence while Peter mourned hers.

Five damned years. Peter’s thoughts turned to Titan and failed attempts and how if he’d only gotten the gauntlet.

A series of beeps sounded from one of the hidden machine, startling the two from their thoughts.

“Holy crap!” Peter jumped as he threw his hand to his chest, knocking over his chair in the process. “What’s wrong?” He scanned his aunt, not seeing why the alarm was suddenly going off. “Did I do something?”

“Calm down, Peter. That means my dialysis is done for today.” She reached for his hand. “It alerts whoever’s on shift that they can unhook me.”

Lydie entered the room again without a word and pulled a blanket off the machine closest to the bed.

Peter looked away.

“I’ll be quick, folks, then a quick check up and I’ll be out of your hair.” Lydie promised as she pressed a button to silence the alarm.

May didn’t pretend to be anything other than irritated. “Lydie, can we just do it later? Peter’s here and I don’t want to—“

Lydie raised her hand her hand to stop her. “Nuh-uh. I’ve already broken one rule for you today. If you think I’m not following another protocol, you’ve got another thing coming to you.” She glanced over to the young superhero. “Sorry, Peter.”

He just shrugged and moved his chair back towards the wall. “No worries. I’ll just stay out of the way.” Yeah, even he knew better to fight with the nurses in Avengers Tower.

Lydie chuckled, “I wish you were that cooperative when you were a patient here, Peter.”

May outright cracked up at that. “You tell him, Lydie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yuk it up. I am a stellar patient.” Peter pouted, “You’re both so mean to me.”

The laughter died down as Lydie disconnected things and went about doing what should have been a cursory check. The cuff of the blood pressure monitor has inflated, May had flinched at its tightness, and Peter had sympathized. Lydie had pulled the stethoscope from around her neck, preparing for the next check when the alarm went off.

“May?” Lydie questioned suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

May looked from Lydie to Peter, then back to Lydie. “Nothing. You know that the machine is too sensitive.  Let the cuff do its torture again,” she pressed. “It’s probably because I was laughing is all.”

Lydie wasn’t buying it, “Peter, would you be a dear and step into the hallway, please.”

Yeah, Peter knew that tone, too. It was the old ‘the medical professionals need to discuss things that aren’t any of your business’ tone. He was out of the chair and into the hallway in a shot.

It wasn’t like he’d be missing anything, anyways.

“Okay, May, ‘fess up. What’s going on?” Lydie whispered.

Had they really forgotten that it didn’t work?

Peter could hear a button being pressed, maybe an aural thermometer, then May’s reply. “My pain medication,” she whispered back. “I should have thought to say something before he got here, but then I fell asleep and I couldn’t let Peter know—“

“How bad?”

May exhaled slowly, “Bad enough that it set off that stupid machine.”

A quiet beep sounded.

“Aw, shit. May!” Lydie hissed. “You’re fever’s up, too! You know better than to not say something about that!”

Peter could hear Lydie’s movements around the room, a drawer opening, vials being shuffled about—“I’m going to get your pain meds and some fever reducers on board, then I’ll call Dr. Bonwick.”

“No.” May blurted out, desperate. “You know it’ll put me to sleep. Just wait until Peter’s visit is over, an hour? Please? Can I have just an hour with him?”  

“No negotiations, May.” They were done with trying to be secretive. “We’re already pushing our luck because of the delay with the dialysis... and Peter’s a smart kid. You know he’ll understand.”

Peter could hear the quiver in her voice again. “I don’t want him to understand! I want him here!” May moaned, giving in to her pain and exhaustion. “I want five years with him, and I want stepping on legos, and sleepovers with his friends, and... and I wanted him to be a man before he had to deal with—oh.” May couldn’t speak, and so she wept.

And Peter’s heart broke again—how many more times would he feel it splinter before it finally stopped.

Lydie tried to comfort May, even as she went about her job with a haste that made Peter realize his coming had been a mistake. She’d been hurting. She suffered because of him—for five years, she had suffered because of him.

It took a few minutes, but May’s cried eventually softened, then levelled to a nice even breathing. She’d fallen asleep. Lydie popped out of the room, took one look at him, and knew. “You heard?”

Peter nodded.

She stepped into the hallway completely, approaching him like a wild animal. “I gave her something to calm her, but with the fever and all...”

“She’s asleep, I know.”

“Good.” She looked over her shoulder into the room, and then addressed Peter. “She’ll sleep for a while now, which is good.” Lydie assured him. “I’m going to call Dr. Bonwick and get her started on her new meds. If everything goes as well as we hope, she’ll be ready for visitors tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

Lydie stared at him for a second and forever. “May mentioned that Mr. Stark had filled you in on some things. Do you have any questions for me? May’s given me permission to give you the basics.”

Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as he fought the urge to ask one of the so many questions he didn’t want answers to. “No. I’m good.”  

The look on her face told Peter that she didn’t believe him.

“Are you alright?” She asked, sympathy pouring off of her. “That visit had to be hard for you, too.”

Peter shook his head in the negative, “I’ll be fine.” Peter assured her. He always was, after all. “You just worry about Aunt May... please.” He tried to be casual about it, but the tears welling up were a dead giveaway.

Lydie stepped closer. “Peter, you’re allowed to be upset, too. I’m sure that Mr. Stark can find someone that can—“

An alarm blared in May’s room, loud and urgent. Lydie stopped talking and rushed back into the room, turning the alarm off and double checking what she thought was the culprit. “A-ha!” She called out as she reattached the oximeter to May’s finger. She watched the numbers jump back up from 0% to a not amazing but could be worse percentage. “There you go, May.” She squeezed the sleeping woman’s hand in support then went back into the hallway. “I’m so sorry about that, Peter, she shifted and knocked... off... her... Peter?” She looked down the empty corridor then rushed down it towards the elevator. She noted the floor numbers descending on the display. “Oh, shit.”

* * * * * *

“Mr. Parker, would you like me to initiate ‘Meltdown Management Mode’ again?” FRIDAY inquired.

May was dying, if she wasn’t already dead. He’d pushed her too much. She was too weak and in pain and then the alarm had gone off and he knew—

Peter said nothing, just stared at the numbers on the panel as the elevator descended. He couldn’t be there anymore. He couldn’t be there when she wasn’t—

May was dead, and Peter was alone.

“Mr. Parker, you are again displaying signs of distress, and failure to respond will require me to contact Boss and update him on your condition.”

Peter blinked as he registered the unintended threat. “I’m fine, thank you. I just need some air,” he rasped out.

“Yes, fresh air and exercise are both optimal solutions for mental distress. Boss has programmed me to provide him positive reinforcement when he takes the initiative on his own to remedy his anxiety. Would you like me to tell you ‘good job,’ Mr. Parker?”

“No, thanks.”

Peter felt a slight shift in speed, then the elevator came to a halt.

“It is currently an overcast 58°F, Mr. Parker. Enjoy the fresh air.” The elevator doors opened, revealing the Avengers Tower lobby bustling with activity. “Mr. Parker, should Boss inquire, what time will you be returning home?”

Home? May was dead and Peter was alone.

Peter chuckled darkly. “I don’t have a home anymore, FRIDAY,” he replied, and pushed his way through the masses of people, out the front doors of the tower, and into the chaos of a world struggling with unexpected rebirth.  

[homeformyheart]

#3 and #22 for all your Buttons and Nora :) (for the OC asks :) )

ahhhh bless you PD for asking about Nora & my buttons :) really making me push forward on developing them (these will be established relationship/deep romance, except for Nora, it’ll probably still be early in the established relationship).

Answers under the cut!

Jasmine Rose Wiseman (Kent)

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

“Come on, Kent is an absolute hottie. I mean, just look at him! He could totally get anyone he wanted,” Jasmine muses, a wide grin and sparkling eyes indicating she finds the humor in the comparison rather than any expected insecurity.

“He has a kind heart, though - that’s what drew me to him. He might seem indifferent, but he really does care about things being fair and treating animals with love. And I definitely adore his dorky side - but don’t tell him I said that!”

22. Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Jasmine loves pet names, especially relationship-specific ones. She gets disappointed when Kent doesn’t reciprocate as easily, but she wears him down over time. She’ll study up on Greek mythology to better come up with relevant nicknames that’ll bring out the adorable reactions from Kent that she loves.

Ivy Park Wiseman (Ambrose)

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

Ivy tenses, clasping her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. She’s well aware of how her relationship with Ambrose looks to those who don’t know them - and most don’t.

“With Ambrose, I am finally whole,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I can finally accept who I am. And it doesn’t have anything to do with being a Wiseman.”

22. Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Her name doesn’t really lend itself to nicknames, but she absolutely hates it when people call her “Wiseman” - she views the name as “borrowed” because she’s adopted and doesn’t really identify with it. She will tease and put people in their place if they annoy her, and she’ll gladly use pet names or nicknames to do that.

Privately, her and Ambrose exchange Korean terms of endearment as their pet names for each other. Once they start dating, she’ll never refer to Ambrose as “Rosy” since she knows he hates it.

Violet Wiseman (Gray)

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

Violet blushes and twirls a loose lock of hair around her finger in thought. “Gray is more than just a partner to me, he’s also my best friend,” she starts softly, biting her lip hesitantly. “He makes me stronger and I’ve come a long way from the insecurities that used to bog me down.”

22. Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

They don’t call other pet names, but she’ll pick up on Gray calling her “love” once they’re in the deep romance stage of the relationship. She absolutely adores any and all pet names that Gray might call her and she doesn’t mind Nick’s so much since she knows they’re all terms of endearment and they make her feel loved.

Nora McConnell (Nick, in all 3 of the above universes)

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

Nora grips the hem of her dress. Her posture is stick straight, shoulders tense and hunched slightly forward, as though leaning into the couch cushions behind her might sting. 

“Nick is... terrifying,” she lets out a breathy laugh and releases her dress to fiddle with the ring on her right hand instead. “Not because of his abilities or anything, but because of how he makes me feel. Warm. Whole. Welcomed.”

She looks up and her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I’ve never felt this way before - so... off-balance. And it takes everything in me to not run away.”

22. Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Nora is not a fan of pet names since they often come up with creepy dirtbags hitting on her when she’s not interested (I picture her wanting to punch someone who tries to call her doll, for example), but she’ll use them in a teasing, call-out way rather than endearing. 

In terms of whether or not she’d like being called a pet name by Nick / call him by a pet name once they’re established, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? (I’m playing around with some names for your prompt request) ;)

from these oc asks (always accepting)

[petrow1tch]

Isn't it fucked up how in dragon age origins 2009 if you play as a guy then you literally need to be pegged by ps1 graphics hottie witch covered in bog leaves and give her your baby if you want to survive the whole saving the world and killing the archdemon deal. Like, literally. Spread ass or die trying. Thought it was a fun tidbit..

Isn't it fucked up how in dragon age origins 2009 you can have gay/lesbian faggotry and then bury your gays not even out of the tutorial. Like, damn alright. LETS get into my room after everyone is asleep before my father and brother go away to war with demons and before my treacherous uncle burns this crib the fuck down. Why the fuck not

[nikooktaetab]

UD:2

(First of all let’s forget that Yunhee ever took care of the Boiler. Never happened! )

Mit knirschenden Schritten ging Eunsook vor Seokjin die Treppe an der Seite hinunter, die zum Weg hinter dem Haus entlang tiefer ins Tal führte.

“Oh my god, Namjoon ist ja sowas von unerträglich! Ich kann mich nicht erinnern, dass wir mal, naja, FREUNDE waren, weißt du?”

Seokjin verkniff sich ein Grinsen und schürzte die Lippen, schob die Hände in die Taschen des großen Parkas und folgte ihr durch den tiefer werdenden Schnee.

“Wir waren und sind alle noch Freunde, Eunsookie, aber Namjoon ist halt mächtig eifersüchtig…”, meinte Seokjin mit hochgezogenen Brauen spöttisch und sah zum Mond hoch, der sich immer mal wieder durch die Wolken schob und den Schnee glitzern ließ.

“Eifersüchtig? Auf wen denn bitte. Unsere guten Looks?”, kicherte Eunsook arrogant und hob die Arme, um mit vorsichtigen Schritten einen leichten Abhang hinunter zu joggen. Zum  Ende hin japste sie und rutschte beinahe aus, hätte Seokjin nicht nach ihrer Elle gegriffen und sie zu sich gezogen. Grinsend brachte er sein Gesicht ihrem näher, ihre Augen weiteten sich und ihre Wangen waren nicht nur wegen der niedrigen Temperaturen so rot.

“Würdest du diese hübschen Augen benutzen, dann hättest du schon längst kapiert, dass Namjoon schon seit einer Weile was von dir will. Allerdings hat er sich ziemlich viel Zeit gelassen - und letztendlich war ich schneller~”, schnurrte Seokjin und stupste mit einem behandschuhten Finger gegen ihre Nase, sodass sie irritiert blinzelte.

“W-Was? Niemals, du spinnst doch?!”

“Glaub’s mir oder nicht, aber das ist der Grund, warum Joonie so hässlich zu dir ist... “, meinte Seokjin in einem merkwürdigem Tonfall und zog Eunsook sanft aber bestimmt an der Hand hinter sich her. Eunsook ließ das auf sich wirken und jonglierte mit den neu gewonnenen Informationen in ihrem Kopf herum, während sie in Schlangenlinien den Berg weiter hinunter stiegen.

“Aber wenn du Recht hast, brichst du dann nicht eine entscheidende Regel des Bro-Kodex?”, fragte sie ihn über das Heulen des Windes und das Rascheln der Tannennadeln um sie herum feixend, sah ihn allerdings scharf von der Seite an. Seokjin wandte sich im Gehen zu ihr um, grinste schelmisch und zuckte die Schultern, bevor er sich wieder umwandte - und zu einem umzäunten Vorsprung deutete.

“Oh wow, sieh mal!”

Dort war ein Fernrohr, Eunsook hüpfte darauf zu und sah aufgeregt hinein, schwenkte es herum. “Wooow, wie gespenstisch und schön- oh, ich kann von hier aus die Hütte sehen!” “Du meinst wohl eher das Liebesnest”, korrigierte Seokjin sie mit tiefer Stimme und einem schiefen Grinsen und bettete das Kinn auf ihrer Schulter, schlang die Arme von hinten um ihre Mitte; sie zerrte kichernd an seinen Händen. “Chill out, Cowboy, und spar dir den Atem für später!”, giggelte sie, bevor sie in seinen Armen erstarrte und ihr Gesicht näher an das Fernrohr presste…

...bevor sie zurück zuckte und die beiden leicht nach hinten stolperten, sie vergrub die Hände im Kragen seiner Jacke. “Woah, was ist los?”, fragte Seokjin besorgt, sie deutete auf das Fernglas.

“D-Da ist jemand bei der Hütte… Ich hab eine Gestalt gesehen”, wisperte sie, Seokjin runzelte die Stirn und warf selbst einen Blick hinein. Dort war der Generator, den sie noch betätigen mussten, da ein verlassener Schuppen, und über einem Bach die Hütte. Doch da war niemand…

Plötzlich schob sich ein merkwürdiger Schatten vor sein Sichtfeld und er lehnte sich blinzelnd zurück, kniff die Augen zusammen und sah über das Fernglas ins Tal hinunter.

“Sicher, dass du dir das nicht nur eingebildet hast? Hier ist eine Menge Wild unterwegs…”

“...hoffen wir’s. Ich will die Nacht nicht wegen eines gruseligen Voyeurs in Erinnerung behalten”, scherzte Eunsook leicht beunruhigt, schaffte es aber dennoch, Seokjin über die Schulter keck anzulächeln und zu zwinkern. Er grinste und nickte wieder in Richtung Abstieg.

“Dafür werd’ ich schon sorgen, Baby! Come on, way to go.”, rief er über den Wind und sie gingen an einem Schild vorbei, dass Wildtiere ausgeschildert hatte. Er runzelte leicht die Stirn und wandte sich dann wieder Eunsook zu, griff nach ihrer Hand.

“Hey, ich will dich nicht erschrecken, aber bleib in meiner Nähe. Es kommen nicht nur Hirsche, sondern auch Wölfe und Braunbären ins Tal.” “Was lässt dich glauben, dass ich nicht gern mit dir schmuse, Hottie?”, kicherte Eunsook und stieß ihn mit der Schulter an, er schüttelte lachend den Kopf. “Daran zweifel ich nicht - aber an deiner Zurechnungsfähigkeit schon manchmal!”

Eunsook riss den Mund auf und sich von Seokjin los, um mit erhobenem Haupt an ihm vorbei zu marschieren. Er grinste und blieb an einem Stromkasten stehen, nahm den kleinen Schlüssen, den Jeongguk ihm gegeben hatte und öffnete ihn, um den Generator für die Hütte einzuschalten. Eunsook bog währenddessen in den Vorsprung einer Höhle ab, von dem Seokjin wusste, dass man von dort früher in die Mine gelangt war. Ihre Stimme hallte dumpf heraus:

“Ich bitte dich! Willst du damit sagen, dass ich zu doof bin, um auf mich selbst aufzupa-ARGH?!”

Ihre Stimme brach sich in einem schrillen Schrei, Seokjin hörte Holz bersten und dann ein dumpfes Geräusch. Rasch schnallte er den Stromkasten zu und rannte um die Ecke, rutschte dabei beinahe aus und blieb mit strauchelnden Armen vor der zerborstenen Absperrung stehen.

“SOOK! EUNSOOK!”, rief er, in einer kleinen Wolke aus Staub stand das Mädchen auf und klopfte sich den Dreck von der weißen Jacke, schüttelte den Kopf so heftig, dass die Flechtzöpfe flogen. Seokjin stieß erleichtert die Luft aus und stemmte die Hände auf die Knie.

“Genau DAS meine ich! Alles gut bei dir?” “Ehm, ja! Ich denke schon?” “Holy Shit, erschreck’ mich doch nicht so!” “Was meinst du, wie’s mir geht?”, schnaubte Eunsook und sah zu Seokjin hoch, der sein Handy heraus geholt hatte und seine Taschenlampe heraus geholt hatte, um hinunter zu leuchten.

“Hast du dir den Kopf gestoßen, oder so?” “Nein, soweit ich zählen kann hab ich noch alle sieben Gliedmaßen!”, scherzte Eunsook verspielt und machte grabby hands in seine Richtung, er schüttelte ungläubig den Kopf und stieß einen atemlosen Lacher aus.

“Das mit dem Zählen üben wir auch nochmal! Warte, ich komm zu dir runter”, rief er und als Eunsook einen Schritt zurück tat und Seokjin in die Hocke ging, um den Vorsprung herunter zu hüpfen, sahen sie beide nicht den Schatten, der am Eingang der Höhle aufgetaucht war… und ihnen langsam folgte.

Seokjin richtete sich gerade auf und strahlte mit seinem Handy in alle Ecken; sie waren kurz vor den Schienen am Anfang eines Minenschachtes.

“Ich war hier schonmal mit Jeongguk, als wir noch kleiner waren… Lass uns den Wagon aus dem Weg schieben, dann können wir einmal durchgehen und am anderen Ende wieder raus.”

Eunsook nickte und sie stemmten sich gegen den kleinen Eisenwagen, der sich mit quietschenden Reifen in Bewegung setzte, sodass sie durch den schmalen Durchgang kamen. “Wenn ich darüber nachgedacht habe, dass wir zusammen stöhnen, hatte ich nicht sowas im Kopf”, keuchte Seokjin, Eunsook presste die Schulter mit einem Kichern noch fester gegen das alte, kalte Eisen, dann hatten sie es geschafft. Mit einem angespannten Grinsen gaben sie sich einen Highfive und gingen vorsichtig weiter, Erde und Geröll knirschten unter ihren Stiefeln, es tropfte hier und da und alle Geräusche schienen doppelt so laut wider zu hallen in dem niedrigen, feuchten Gang. Es war mehr als dunkel, ihr Atem stand in der Luft und raubte ihnen ab und zu die Sicht, die sie hatten.

Plötzlich quietschte es und das Geräusch wurde erschreckend schnell lauter - und aus der Dunkelheit kam ein weiterer Wagen direkt auf sie zugerollt. Mit einem Japsen sprang Eunsook zur Seite, Seokjin stemmte sich dagegen und bremste den Wagen mit einem Schnaufen und Keuchen langsam aber sicher aus.

“Was zur Hölle?! Wo kommt DER denn her?”, fragte Eunsook wispernd und starrte in die Dunkelheit, sie holte nun ebenfalls ihr Handy heraus und leuchtete in die Dunkelheit. Ein feuriger Schimmer spiegelte sich nun an den nassen Wänden, vorsichtig gingen sie um die Ecke. Am Ende des Ganges, an dem es entweder runter oder wieder raus ging, standen in einer Ecke ein paar rostige Tonnen. Darauf flackerten Kerzen, und zwischen den Kerzen lag der Stummel einer Zigarre. Seokjin hob ihn auf und drehte ihn in den Fingern.

“Der ist relativ frisch…”, murmelte er mit gerunzelter Stirn, Eunsook riss die Augen auf. “Was, echt jetzt? Wer hängt denn bitte hier ab? Ich kenn über tausend schönere Locations…”, scherzte sie flach, Seokjin zog die Brauen hoch und nickte zustimmend. Dann musterte er die Wand und hob das Licht ein wenig.

“Shit, was ist DAS denn?”

Sie musterten den Schädel, der an der Wand hing. Der weiße Knochen stach krass auf dem dunklen Untergrund hervor, an dem ausladenden Geweih hingen Lederschnüre mit Federn daran. Um den Schädel war in roter Farbe - zumindest hofften sie, dass es Farbe war - Symbole geschmiert. Eunsook zuckte die Schultern und ließ die Hände mit einem lauten Geräusch wieder gegen ihre Schenkel fallen.

“Keine Ahnung, Mann. Vielleicht ‘n Kult? Mir würde als Teenie im nahen Dorf auch langweilig werden. Hier passiert mal so gaaar nichts!”, meinte sie, Seokjin nickte langsam. Keiner von beiden sagte, dass das ein recht schwaches Argument war. Als sie sich umwandten, sah Seokjin auf einem der Fässer eine alte Karte liegen. Sie war von der Feuchtigkeit schon hier und da zerfressen und vergilbt.

“Das sind die Minen… Ziemlich viel rot gekennzeichnet. Da sollte man wohl nicht mehr runter…”, murmelte Seokjin und Eunsook hob die Brauen und nickte zustimmend.

Rasch verließen sie die Mine und atmeten sichtlich auf, als sie durch einen weiten Höhleneingang wieder auf dem Weg den Abhang hinunter waren.

+

Mit einem Seufzen hielt Yunhee nach einer halben Minute die nun fast blauen Fingerspitzen immer noch unter den eiskalten Strahl des Badewassers. Sie drehte den Hahn wieder zu und wandte sich um, auf dem Treppenabsatz hörte sie bereits das Gekappel der drei Jungen:

“Ein Oujia Board? Ihr glaubt doch nicht an sowas, oder?”, spottete Jimin, er saß auf dem Teppich mit den Beinen von sich gestreckt wie ein Kind. Taehyung zuckte die Schultern, Jeongguk presste die Handflächen wie im Gebet zusammen. “Ach kommt schon, seit keine Spaßbremsen! Ich hab das immer zusammen mit… mit… wir haben das immer zusammen gemacht, das war cool!” “Wenn Koo Bock drauf hat, können wir’s doch mal versuchen”, lenkte Taehyung ein, der sensibel genug war, auf Jeongguk’s Wünsche einzugehen. Dieser reckte eine Faust in die Luft in einer triumphierenden Geste während Jimin sich mit einem Stöhnen rittlings auf den Flauscheteppich sinken ließ. “Okay okay, ihr habt gewonnen! Penner.”

“Heck yeah!” “Heck yeah wär’s auch, wenn ich Badewasser hätte - und zwar warmes”, rief Yunhee von der letzten Treppenstufe und warf Jeongguk einen tadelnden Blick zu, ging in die Küche, um sich einen Saft einzuschenken. Jeongguk warf ihr finger guns zu.

“Der Boiler im Keller, beinahe vergessen! I’m on it, Missy, kommste mit? Ihr könnt währenddessen das Oujia Board suchen, vielleicht ist es in… in ihren Zimmern, naja, ihr findet’s schon!”, rief Jeongguk zuversichtlich und winkte dann Yunhee zu sich heran. Sie ließ sich ein wenig Zeit mit ihrem Saft, kicherte, als er genervt die Lippen schürzte, sodass sich kleine Grübchen in seine Wangen bohrten und folgte ihm dann in den Keller.

Auf der Treppe zog er an dem Zopfgummi und öffnete sein langes Deckhaar, fuhr sich ein paar Mal hindurch und drehte sich dann im Gehen zu Yunhee um, sah sie an. Sein Gesichtsausdruck war blank, ausdruckslos, und die großen, dunklen Augen merkwürdig stumpf. Yunhee wurde ein wenig mulmig und sie lächelte verunsichert. Plötzlich blinzelte er und es schien wieder Leben in ihn zu fahren; er erwiderte das Grinsen und seine großen Augen funkelten. Er stieß sie ihm Gehen mit der Schulter an.

“Hey, ich- ich wollte nur sagen, dass es schön ist. Dass ihr alle hier seid, das würde die beiden freuen”, fing er plötzlich mit seiner sanften Stimme an und warf einen Blick auf Yunhee herunter. Sie erinnerte sich schwach daran, dass sie mal größer gewesen war als er. Nun war er groß, und breit, und warm. Und ein wenig neben der Spur, aber vielleicht bildete Yunhee sich das auch nur ein…

Sie erwiderte sein Lächeln und griff nach seiner Hand, um sie leicht zu drücken.

“Wir sind gern hier, Gukkie, das weißt du doch.”

Jeongguk nickte langsam und als sie ihm ihre Hand wieder entziehen wollte, blieb er stehen und hielt ihre Hand fest. Vielleicht etwas zu fest. Da er nichts sagte, sprach wie weiter: “Nach allem, was passiert ist… wir sind immer noch für dich da, Jeongguk, okay?”, sagte sie eindringlich, betrachtete sein unbewegtes Gesicht.

“Ich… will einfach nur, dass wir wieder ‘ne gute Zeit haben”, fing er mit rauer Stimme an, dann erwiderte er ihren Blick: “Danke, Yunhee, ich bin dir wirklich dankbar. Dir besonders”, sagte er leise, ihr Lächeln verrutschte bei seinem Tonfall etwas.

Der Keller des Hauses war ein Wirrwarr aus Gängen, in denen in einigem Abstand immer wieder Lampen an der Decke hingen. Sie befanden sich genau zwischen zweien und dank Jeongguk’s langem Haar, das sein Gesicht auf beiden Seiten einrahmte, waren seine Augen riesig und weiß in dem schattigen Gesicht. Sie konnte nicht ausmachen, wo seine Iris aufhörte und seine Pupille anfing; aber dass er nicht blinzelte und immer noch leicht lächelte, machte diesen Moment nicht gerade angenehmer.

Vorsichtig zog sie ihre Hand aus seinem Klammergriff, legte dann die Hände auf seine breiten Schultern und drückte leicht, bevor sie die Hände wieder sinken ließ und hinter dem Rücken verschränkte.

“Gerne doch”, murmelte sie mit einem verkniffenen Lächeln. Jeongguk sagte nichts, sondern lächelte nur unbeirrt dieses tote Grinsen, bei denen sich in seinen Augen nichts bewegte. Plötzlich streckte er die Hand nach ihr aus und sie zuckte heftig zusammen - bevor sie merkte, dass er lediglich eine Metallklappe hinter ihr öffnete.

“Was bist’n so schreckhaft heute, das bist du doch sonst nicht?”, kicherte er feixend und hielt ihr eine Taschenlampe hin, bedeutete ihr, ihm Licht zu machen. Sie stieß einen atemlosen Lacher hervor und deutete unbeholfen um sich: “Naja, der Keller ist ziemlich groß und verwinkelt - schon ein bisschen unheimlich…”

“Du solltest auf jeden Fall nicht alleine hier unten sein”, sagte Jeongguk und wieder war es dieser beinahe belanglose, aber ernsthafte Tonfall, der Yunhee Gänsehaut bereitete. Sie runzelte die Stirn und schüttelte den Kopf, machte ihm gerade Licht als sie ein rhythmisches, stählernes Pochen hörte.

“Was...?” “Mh?”, hakte Jeongguk geistesabwesend nach, er hatte sich den Knöpfen und Hebeln zugewandt. Yunhee warf einen Blick über die Schulter, sah den Gang zu beiden Seiten rauf und runter. Woher kam bloß das Geräusch? “Hörst du das Pochen nicht? Es ist so… regelmäßig?” “Nein, ich- hey, kannst du dich konzentrieren? Ich brauch hier Licht”, wies Jeongguk sie ungeduldig an, sie blinzelte und drehte sich wieder zu ihm um. Doch da war immer noch dieses Pochen, inzwischen wurde es etwas unsteter. Stirnrunzelnd drehte sie sich erneut um, doch da war nichts und sie konnte weiß Gott nicht sagen, aus welcher Richtung es kam.

“Okay, komm mal hier rüber”, befahl Jeongguk und zog sie am Arm zu einem weiteren Stromkasten, “du legst diesen Hebel um und wenn diese Lampe blinkt, dann musst du den Knopf drücken. Der geht schwer, hau am Besten drauf”, wies Jeongguk sie an und hockte sich wieder vor den anderen Stromkasten.

Yunhee tat wie befohlen, wartete nach dem Klacken, bis das Grollen der Maschine seinen Höhepunkt erreicht hatte und als das Lämpchen aufflammte, schlug sie zu. Ein gleichmäßiges Grollen ertönte und Jeongguk klatschte sich einmal in die Hände und lachte freudig.

“Hell yeah! Ausgezeichnet”, rief er und stand auf, hielt Yunhee eine Hand hin. Allerdings übersah sie die Einladung zum Highfive, da sie sich bereits geistesabwesend lächelnd wieder umgewandt hatte, in Gedanken immer noch das merkwürdige Geräusch…

Jeongguk’s strahlendes Lächeln verschwand und er starrte Yunhee’s Hinterkopf einige Sekunden einfach nur an, sein Gesicht eine blanke Maske. Dann hörten sie plötzlich ein hohles Jammern und um die entfernte Ecke taumelte eine vermummte Gestalt - mit ausgebreiteten Armen genau auf sie zu.

“LAUF!”, rief Yunhee und drängte Jeongguk am Arm vor sich her, der irritiert blinzelte und die Beine in die Hand nahm. Yunhee schob ihn weiter, wandte sich um und zerrte an ein paar Brettern, die an der Wand lehnten. Sie fielen ihrem Verfolger in den Weg, der japste und stolperte. Rasch sprinteten sie die Treppe hinauf und Jeongguk griff nach dem Türgriff - und rüttelte ihn verzweifelt, jedoch ohne Erfolg.

“Mach schon?! Warum geht die Tür nicht auf?”, zischte Yunhee verzweifelt und stemmte sich mit dagegen, was natürlich nichts nützte. “Damit uneingeladener Besuch nicht reinkommt?”, mutmaßte Jeongguk luftleer, da taumelte die dunkle Gestalt um die Ecke. Sie heulte hohl und wankte die Treppenstufen auf, Yunhee schrie auf und presste sich an Jeongguk - der loskicherte.

“Steht dir, Minnie”, kicherte er und die Gestalt brach ebenfalls in Gelächter aus, Park Jimin schob sich die weiße Maske vom Gesicht und die Kapuze des Mönch Gewandes herunter. Yunhee riss empört den Mund auf und schlug mit einer flachen Hand auf Jimin’s Oberarm. “Park Jimin?! Wie kannst du nur?” “Oh Mann, ihr hättet eure Visagen seh’n sollen! Hollywood reifer Schrei, Yunhee, wirklich erste Klasse”, kicherte er und klatschte langsam, Taehyung öffnete ihnen gerade mit verwundertem Gesicht die Tür. “Geht’s euch gut?”, fragte er unschuldig, Yunhee schob sich mit einem Augenrollen an ihm vorbei. “Bis auf den Schreck, den ich mir jetzt mit einem heißen Bad aus den Knochen wasche? Hervorragend, Taetae, danke der Nachfrage!”, schnaufte das Mädchen und griff nach einem der Kissen vom Sofa, warf es nach Jimin. Der fing es auf und warf es Taehyung an den Kopf, der seine Mütze probt verlor. Verwundert sah er an Jimin rauf und runter. “Mensch, gehst du jetzt unter die Schutzheiligen?” Jimin legte die Hände wie zum Gebet zusammen und sah Taehyung mit einem Ausdruck ehrfürchtiger Verzweiflung an: “Nur Beten kann uns nun noch von dem Fluch befreien, der auf uns liegt...  nur Beten, oder der TOD?!” Theatralisch sank er auf die Knie und streckte eine Hand gen Himmel - beziehungseise gen Yunhee, die vom oberen Stockwerk auf ihn herunter sehen konnte, da alles offen war. Sie klatschte langsam und schüttelte mit zuckenden Mundwinkeln den Kopf: “Du solltest unter die Schauspieler gehen… oder einfach direkt mehr trinken!”, schloss sie und winkte über die Schulter, schloss die Badezimmertüre wieder hinter sich. Jimin wandte sich kichernd Jeongguk zu: “Mann, da ist ja haufenweise billiges Filmequipment im Keller…gehört das deinem Vater?”

Jeongguk verdrehte die Augen: “Als ob der für sowas Zeit hat! Nein, das ist meins… Ich hab doch mal so ‘nen Kurzfilm gedreht, wisst ihr noch? Diesen wirklich billigen Horrorstreifen, der ‘ne Auszeichnung bekommen hat? Der Scheiß ist noch übrig…”, erklärte Jeongguk und wandte sich dann Taehyung zu: “Also, hat einer von euch das Board gefunden?”

Jimin zog aus der braunen Kutte ein hölzernes Brett.

“Tadaaa~”, rief er triumphierend, die anderen beiden grölten und sie griffen sich ihre Getränke und liefen in den Salon neben der Bibliothek, um dort im schwachen Kerzenlicht die Geister zu rufen.

+ Ein schriller Schrei, nicht menschlich aber auch nicht der Ruf eines Tieres, durchbrach spitz die Nacht. Eunsook blieb wie angewurzelt stehen und wandte sich mit großen Augen zu Seokjin um, der ihren Blick mit hochgezogenen Brauen erwiderte.

“Okay, what the fuck? Hast du das gehört?”, fragte Eunsook, die sich langsam im Kreis drehte und in die dunklen Bäume um sie herum spähte.

“Ich hab… etwas… gehört, ja… Vielleicht ein Eichhörnchen”, murmelte Seokjin und holte zu Eunsook auf, drückte sanft eine Hand in ihr Kreuz und ging weiter.

“Eichhörnchen…”, murmelte Eunsook ungläubig, folgte ihm aber artig. Bis sie ein weiteres Geräusch im Dickicht um sie herum hörten, Geäst knackte, Schnee knirschte. Eunsook blieb wie angewurzelt stehen und presste den Rücken gegen Seokjin’s breite Figur, er hatte ihre Schultern umklammert. Dann löste er sich langsam, bückte sich und griff nach einem Schneeball. Warf ihn in die ungefähre Richtung des Geräusches und warf. Einige Sekunden passierte nichts. Dann stieß Eunsook ein lautloses Lachen aus und drehte sich zu ihm um.

“Oh mein Gott, ich dachte schon-”

Plötzlich brach ein riesiger, dunkler Hirsch aus dem Geäst und landete mit einem Aufprall, der dumpf im Boden vibrierte, zwischen ihnen um mit einem röhrenden Ruf und der Kraft eines Kleinwagens mit einem Satz wieder zwischen den Bäumen auf der anderen Seite des Weges zu verschwinden. Sie sahen noch kurz die riesigen, dunklen Augen, die sie schreckensgeweitet anstarrten, dann war das große Tier auch schon wieder verschwunden.

“Woah, das war knapp! Bleib lieber neben mir”, rief Seokjin aus und machte einen Ausfallschritt, zog Eunsook an sich heran und sie gingen rasch weiter, sie stieß ein zustimmendes Geräusch hervor.

Um die nächste Kurve hörten sie bereits den Bach plätschern und vor der kleinen Brücke stand ein alter Schuppen. Das Dach war bereits eingeknickt und es gab keine Türe mehr. Eunsook ging zum Bach und kniete sich ans Wasser, sie hatte ihr Handy gezückt und machte ein paar Fotos von dieser Seite, da der Mond die Szenerie so schön beleuchtete. Seokjin schon sich neugierig in den Schuppen, anscheinend ein altes Jagdversteck. Es gab nicht viel zu sehen, da waren Haken zum Aufhängen des Fanges - und merkwürdigerweise eine Art Atemschutzmaske? Seokjin griff danach und schlich sich langsam von hinten an Eunsook heran, die unschuldig im Schnee hockte und sich nichts Böses dachte.

“Uaaargh!”,  grollte er, hielt sich die Maske vor und streckte einen Arm nach ihr aus - sie fuhr mit einem spitzen Schrei herum, rutschte am Ufer aus und fiel rittlings in den Bach. Jammernd und schimpfend kam sie mit Ach und Krach wieder auf die Beine, sie war klitschnass und der fallende Schnee machte es auch nicht besser. Seokjin klatschte mit einem bellenden Lachen in die Hände.

“JIN?! Hör auf zu lachen, ich bin klitschenass - und arschkalt?!”, quengelte sie mit Tränen in den Augen und schubste ihn, er stolperte kichernd zurück und streckte beschwichtigend die Arme nach ihr aus.

“Oh keine Sorge, Darling, ich weiß genau, wie wir dich wieder aufheizen können…” “Halt die Klappe! Die Stimmung ist sowas von MIES!”, fauchte sie, als sie plötzlich den Schrei wieder hörten - den von dem angeblichen Eichhörnchen. Das dunkle, hohle Röhren eines Hirsches folgte.

Mit großen Augen wirbelte Eunsook herum und Seokjin packte sie an der Hand, zog sie über die Brücke. “Okay, wir sollten gehen - es tut mir Leid, dass du nass bist, das wollte ich nicht”, sagte er mit leiser, beschwichtigender Stimme und rieb ihre Oberarme, sie stapfte missmutig neben ihm her.

“Gibt’s etwas Schlimmeres, als nass UND kalt zu sein?”, zischte sie.

Just in dem Moment, als sie den Pfad wieder betreten hatten, brach erneut ein Hirsch durch das Dickicht und stolperte auf der anderen Seite über ein auf dem Boden liegenden Stamm. Im Schnee leuchteten rote Sprenkel, sie breiteten sich aus wie die Knospen von Blüten und als das am Boden liegende Tier keuchte, spuckte es einen Schwall heißen Blutes über den kalten, weißen Schnee.

“DAS ist Schlimmer”, stellte Seokjin trocken fest und sie näherten sich vorsichtig dem Tier. Der Hals des Hirsches war beinahe vollständig von Fell, Haut und teils auch Fleisch befreit; in die Flanke waren riesige Striemen gerissen und sie konnten sich nur vorstellen, was für gigantische Krallen ein Tier haben musste, um solch einen Schaden bei einem ausgewachsenen Hirsch anzurichten. Das Tier war beinahe zwei Meter groß - und lag offensichtlich im Sterben.

“Oh Gott, wir müssen doch irgendwas tun?!”,keuchte Eunsook mit tränenerstickter Stimme. Seokjin näherte sich langsam dem in Todesqualen keuchenden Wesen, das verzweifelt die Hufe in den Schnee grub und vergebens versuchte, sich wieder aufzurichten. Seokjin’s Hand fand den Kiefer des Tieres und er strich beruhigend über das klebrige Fell und sah in die dunklen, schockgeweiteten Augen und verlor sich einige Sekunden darin…

...bevor der Hirsch mit einem gewaltigen Ruck in die Finsternis der Bäume gezerrt wurde. Eunsook schrie auf und sprintete los: “KOMM SCHON! LAUF?!”

Seokjin war ihr bereits dicht auf den Fersen, sie hörten dumpfe Geräusche in den Bäumen um sie herum und wollten es auf keinen Fall drauf ankommen lassen, Bekanntschaft mit einem Bären zu machen! Auf der Veranda der Hütte angekommen rutschte Eunsook dank ihrer nassen Schuhe prompt aus, Seokjin machte einen Satz zurück und zerrte sie hoch doch sie stieß ihn von sich: “Schlüssel, JETZT!”

Rasch kramte er den Schlüssel heraus, jagte ihn ins Loch und drehte ihn rum, schob Eunsook zuerst durch die Tür und hüpfte hinterher, rammte die Tür zu und verschloss von innen. Heftig atmend standen sie sich gegenüber und Seokjin stieß einen atemlosen Lacher aus, Eunsook stolperte zum Sofa und ließ sich darauf fallen.

“Holy… shit… Was zur Hölle war das?!”, keuchte sie, Seokjin zerrte sich die Jacke vom Leib.

“Bestimmt ein Bär… Glück gehabt, würd ich sagen!” “Glück gehabt? Was, wenn er herkommt!”, protestierte Eunsook fassungslos, Seokjin verdrehte hinter ihrem Kopf die Augen. “Bären öffnen keine Türen, Eunsookie…” “Ich hab mal gesehen, dass Bären Autotüren öffnen können!” “Wo das denn?”, fragte Seokjin stirnrunzelnd. “Im Internet?” “Das hier ist nicht das Internet, sondern Real Life…”, warf Seokjin beschwichtigend ein, lehnte sich über die Sofalehne und sah auf das Mädchen herunter. Eunsook verschränkte die Arme vor der Brust und schob trotzig die Unterlippe vor. “Mhpf! Die Stimmung ist trotzdem ziemlich im Eimer… Ich hätte gern ein Feuer und gute Musik…”

Sie kramte nach ihrem Handy - und ihr Gesicht entgleiste.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, FUCK!” “Was- Eunsook, hey, was suchst du?” “Mein Handy! Oh verdammt, es ist bestimmt in den Fluss gefallen - meine Eltern bringen mich UM!” “Und kaufen dir doch sowieso ein Neues…” “Das ist mein VIERTES dieses Jahr”, jammerte Eunsook, inzwischen bereits auf allen Vieren um unter die Couch zu linsen. Seokjin begutachtete währenddessen eine Shotgun, die in einer Vitrine neben der Türe hing. “Ich glaub nicht, dass wir jetzt da raus sollten… nur so’n Gefühl”, meinte er mit einem ironischen Unterton, sie verdrehte die Augen und ließ sich wieder auf die Couch fallen.

“Jetzt musst du dir wirklich was GANZ Tolles einfallen lassen, damit ich wieder Lust bekomme!”, zischte sie beleidigt und sah mit trotziger Miene zu ihm auf. Seokjin verkniff sich ein Seufzen und machte sich auf die Suche nach Streichhölzern.

+

“Oh mein Gott, Jeongguk - es tut uns Leid, okay? Das war NICHT geplant, warum sollten wir damit scherzen?”, rief Jimin erneut und gestikulierte zum Oujia Brett, auf dem das dreieckige Tool mit dem Loch in der Mitte nach wie vor auf dem T stand… nachdem es das Wort V-E-R-R-A-T gebildet hatte.

Angeblich sprachen sie mit Mina, zumindest hatte die unsichtbare Kraft sie ihren Namen und das reizende Wort M-O-R-D buchstabieren lassen, was die Stimmung nicht unbedingt ausgelassen werden ließ. Jeongguk fuhr sich gerade durch’s Haar, seine Augen glitten fahrig durch den Raum und er tigerte von links nach rechts.

“Wenn ihr glaubt, dass mir das hilft, die ganze Scheiße besser zu verarbeiten… dann ist das wirklich KRANK, okay, einfach nur KRANK!”, rief er verzweifelt und trat vor den Tisch, bevor er aus dem Zimmer rauschte und die Tür hinter sich zuknallte. Taehyung saß nach wie vor mit großen Augen an dem Tisch und hatte abwehrend die Hände gehoben, als der Tisch mit schrabbenden Beinen auf ihn zukam. Dabei rutschte das Dreieck auf ihn zu und wäre ihm wohl in den Schoß gefallen, wenn er nicht wie von der Tarantel gestochen aufgesprungen und einen Satz nach hinten gemacht hätte.

“Ohh Jiminie… Ich glaub’, wir haben Mist gebaut…” “Das hast du aber schön in Worte gefasst”, stöhnte Jimin und raufte sich die Haare, bevor er die Mütze wieder aufsetzte und sich die Nasenwurzel massierte. “Shit! Was machen wir denn jetzt?”

Taehyung sah an Jimin vorbei zu dem Schreibtisch und ging langsam näher, nahm geistesabwesend einen formellen Brief zur Hand und las ihn.

“Wir sollten Koo auf jeden Fall erstmal in Ruhe lassen, bis er sich abgekühlt hat… Hey, sieh mal”, murmelte er und hielt Jimin mit langen Fingern den Brief hin. Genervt stieß Jimin Luft aus der Nase aus und griff ruckartig nach dem Stück Papier, die schmalen Augen flogen über die Buchstaben:

“Tae, ich hab jetzt echt keine Zeit- warte Mal… Diesen Namen, Min Yoongi, den hab ich unten beim Skilift gesehen! Da war so ein Poster, der wird doch gesucht, weil er Jeongguk’s Familie ständig belästigt”, sagte er aufgeregt und stach mit einem kleinen Finger auf den Namen. Er studierte den ganzen Brief noch einmal.

“Mhh, sieht so aus, als ob er dem indianischen Stamm, der auf dem Berg gelebt hat, angehörig ist. Die halten wohl nicht so viel von dem Minenbau, den Jeongguk’s Großvater hier betrieben hat…”, sinnierte er und Taehyung wandte sich um, studierte mit großen Augen die Bücherregale und zog schließlich eines mit Indianischen Sagen und Mythen heraus.

“Zumindest scheint sich Guk’s Vater damit auseinandergesetzt zu haben… Aber einig wurden die sich wohl nie…”

Taehyung runzelte die Stirn und musterte Symbole zur Vertreibung böser Geister und aufgezeichnete Totems. “Was, wenn dieser Kerl nach all den Jahren Rache für seine Urväter will?”, fragte Taehyung und wandte sich zu Jimin um, seine Augen waren riesig. “Was, wenn dieser- dieser Kerl, der immer noch gesucht wird… Was, wenn er hier auf dem Berg ist? Was, wenn er es war, der Momo und Mina-” “-Taehyung! Halt die Klappe”, zischte Jimin und warf den Zettel wieder auf den Schreibtisch, riss dem anderen das Buch aus der Hand, es landete klatschend daneben.

“Selbst, wenn da was dran ist… Da wären die doch bestimmt selbst drauf gekommen. Und bei den Konditionen auf diesem Berg und den verlassenen Minen…”, fuhr Jimin fort und sah nach draußen in den Schneesturm, Taehyung folgte seinem Blick mit einem unwohlen Gefühl im Bauch, “...wer wird schon allein hier oben sein Unwesen treiben? Noch nicht mal ein Verrückter, oder?”

In der Stille, die nach Jimin’s Worten folgte, hörten sie ein lautes Rumpeln und Jeongguk’s erstickten Hilferuf. Mit riesigen Augen sahen sie sich an. Dann nahmen sie die Beine in die Hand, Taehyung war zuerst bei der Tür und brach hindurch, die Flügeltür knallte hinter ihm wieder zu. Fluchend rüttelte Jimin am Türknauf, als er endlich nachgab, stolperte er in die Küche.

Taehyung lag am Boden, Arme und Beine von sich gestreckt, von Jeongguk fehlte jede Spur. Und von der Seite sprang plötzlich ein großer, breiter Kerl in sein Sichtfeld, mit langem, zotteligen Haar und einer weißen Clownsmaske, die um die Mundpartie halb aufgerissen war - stattdessen klemmten dort nun aufgeklebte, gelbliche lange Zähne.

Ein dumpfer Schlag ertönte und Jimin spürte seine Nerven am Hinterkopf heiß kitzeln, bevor alles um ihn herum schwarz wurde und er zu Boden fiel.

+

Seokjin hatte Eunsook gerade ihr Longsleeve über den Kopf gezogen und sich wieder zu ihr herunter gebeugt, um die bereits wunden Lippen wieder auf ihre zu pressen, als es im Bad laut klirrte.

Eunsook quietschte atemlos und zog die lange Beine in der nach wie vor feuchten Jeans an die Brust; sie trug keine Socken mehr aber noch ein hautenges, gut ausgeschnittenes T-Shirt, aus dem Seokjin sie als nächstes schälen wollte. Er selbst trug noch Jeans und ein ebenfalls eng anliegendes Top und war ziemlich genervt, schon wieder unterbrochen zu werden - was den jetzt schon wieder?

“Was war das”, keuchte Eunsook mit heißen Wangen und deutete in den Flur. Seokjin musste alle mentale Kraft zusammennehmen, um nicht entnervt zu stöhnen und die Augen zu verdrehen, und erhob sich um in den Flur zu gehen. Das Badezimmerfenster war eingeschlagen, nein, es war etwas hineingeworfen worden.

Eunsook’s Handy.

Es spielte Musik und lag unschuldig auf den Holzdielen vor ihm.

“Ehm… Dein Handy ist wieder aufgetaucht…”, rief Seokjin und hob es auf, musterte es von allen Seiten und ging wieder zurück, reichte einer fassungslosen Eunsook das Gerät. Ihr Mund stand offen, dann flackerte Wut über ihr Gesicht und sie sprang auf.

“Diese Penner!”, zischte sie und polterte zur Eingangstüre, riss sie auf sodass ein Schwall kalte Winterluft hereinfegte und das Feuer im Kamin protestierend knisterte; Seokjin schnaubte fassungslos: “Was..?”

“HEY, IHR SPACKOS! Ja, genau ihr?!”, brüllte Eunsook und stemmte eine Hand in die Hüfte, hielt mit der anderen das Handy in die Höhe.

“Ich weiß genau, dass ihr da seid - ihr wartet doch nur auf ‘ne Peep Show und wisst ihr was? Wir geben euch gerne eine! Wir werden jetzt nämlich VÖGELN?!”, rief sie in die Nacht hinaus und lachte beinahe manisch, klatschte in die Hände und presste sie theatralisch vor die Brust.

“Und das wird SO! GUT! werden, und keiner von euch kann uns davon abhalten?! Hasta la vista!”, beendete sie ihre Kundtuung und mit einem erneuten Lacher kam sie wieder hinein und knallte die Tür hinter sich zu, warf ihr Handy auf den Tisch und grinste Seokjin mit heißen Wangen und funkelnden Augen an.

“So! Wo waren wir?”

Seokjin lachte und schüttelte den Kopf: “Du bist einmalig!”, kicherte er und machte einen Schritt auf sie zu - dann passierte alles ganz schnell.

Es klirrte laut als das Türfenster zerbarst und Eunsook’s gesamter Körper am Kopf nach hinten gerissen wurde als Jemand, oder Etwas, sie unter hysterischem Schreien und sich wehrenden Händen, die haltlos an den Holzplanken entlang fuhren, durch das zerbrochene Fenster zerrte.

Ein letzter, markerschütternder Schrei hallte durch die Nacht, dann war Stille.

“EUNSOOK?!”, brüllte Seokjin und Leben fuhr in ihn; rasch griff er sich die kleine Gaslampe vom Tisch und mit der anderen das Gewehr, trat die locker in den Angeln hängende Türe ein und sprang die Veranda runter, blieb nur stehen, um sich kurz zu orientieren.

Da waren Schleifspuren, vor ihm im Schnee, sie führten in Richtung der Minen.

“EUNSOOK, WO BIST DU?”, brüllte er, sie kreischte, die Stimme bereits weit entfernt, ein Echo durch Wind und Schnee getragen.

Rasch nahm Seokjin die Beine in die Hand und rannte los. Er spürte die Kälte nicht einmal, schlitternd und keuchend bahnte er sich seinen Weg durch das Unterholz. Statt des Weges wählte er den Abhang hinunter, da er dort Schleifspuren und etwas Dunkles sah - bitte kein Blut!

Japsend rutschte er noch tiefer, ließ gezwungenermaßen Gewehr und Lampe los, um seinen Fall nach unten abzufangen in dem er hier nach einem aus der Steinwand ragenden Rohr griff, da nach einem alten Zaun. Trotzdem fiel er tief und taumelte, als er zwar auf den Füßen landete, jedoch kurz in die Knie ging und sich abstützen musste.

Er war vor einem Eingang zu den Minen, ein goldener Schimmer drang aus dem Inneren. Rasch griff er nach der auf der Seite liegenden Lampe, die glücklicherweise immer noch funktionierte, und dem Gewehr, und joggte hinein. Kurz orientierte er sich und folgte schließlich Geräuschen von weiter unten, nahm eine Treppe die zum Fahrstuhl ausgeschrieben war und stolperte beinahe über seine Füße, so schnell hastete er die Stufen hinunter.

In der Dunkelheit hörte er ein Stöhnen, er hob die Lampe und sah sie - da lag Eunsook, auf dem Gitter, das den Boden des Fahrstuhls markierte. Ihre Gliedmaßen waren merkwürdig abgewinkelt, sie bewegte gerade den Kopf stöhnend auf die andere Seite. Tiefe Kratzer zierten ihr Dekoltee, sie hatte einen eingerissenen Mundwinkel und war überall dreckig und blutig. Als Seokjin auf sie zuhastete und sich neben sie fallen ließ, blinzelte sie mit schweren Augenlidern, der glasige Blick fokussierte sich nur mit Mühe.

“Seok...jin?” “Oh Gott, Eunsook! Eunsook, geht’s dir gut? Fuck, natürlich nicht, du siehst- nichts für ungut, du siehst echt beschissen- was zur Hölle passiert hier”, keuchte Seokjin atemlos und streckte vorsichtig die Hände nach ihr aus.

Es knirschte unheilverkündend und der Fahrstuhl verlor vor Seokjin’s Augen den Halt und mit einem gewaltigen Krachen jagte er in die Tiefe, wo er mit einem Donnern aufschlug.

“EUNSOOK, NEIN?!” Seokjin’s Augen brannten, er sah fassungslos in die Tiefe, sah jedoch außer tiefer Schwärze nichts. Da hörte er einen Schrei, aber nicht Eunsook’s - es war der Schrei, den sie vorher bereits im Wald gehört hatten. Er ging durch Mark und Bein und Seokjin konnte nicht anders; er presste sich schützend die Hände vor die Augen und sah sich panisch um - da sah er es.

Ein Wesen, ausgemergelt und mit dürren, langen Gliedmaßen, hing an der Decke. Im schwachen Schein seiner Lampe glänzten die Augen riesig, rund und weiß auf ihn herunter und Speichel tropfte von langen, spitzen Zähnen. Es hatte blutige Krallen in die Steine gerammt und es könnte humanoiden Ursprungs sein - wenn es sich nicht mit unglaublicher Geschwindigkeit, wendig wie eine Spinne, die Wand entlang bewegen und einen weiteren, grellen Schrei ausstoßen würde.

Seokjin griff schneller nach der Knarre, als er denken konnte, und als das Wesen zielsicher mit ausgestreckten Krallen und weit aufgerissenem Mund auf ihn zu sprang, schoss er und traf die linke Schulter. Mit einem weiteren Kreischen wurde es zurück geschleudert und fiel mit einem Krachen in ein paar Tonnen, die krachend zur Seite rollten.

Dann wurde die Mine erhellt von einem Schwall Feuer, der zielsicher das Wesen fand und Hitze die Wände hochtrieb. Es stieß einen letzten, grellen Schrei aus und ein dumpfes Echo schwang ihm nach, bevor es sich hinaus in die verschneite Nacht stürzte. Aus den Schatten trat ein kleiner Mann, der einen Flammenwerfer in der Hand hatte, den Tank hatte er sich auf den Rücken geschnallt. Er trug eine Maske, die der, die Seokjin im Schuppen gefunden hatte, nicht unähnlich sah.

Gerade schob er sie langsam nach oben und ein kleines Gesicht mit melancholischen Augen trat zum Vorschein, die Ringe in den Ohren klingelten. Seokjin sah die Narbe über einem Auge, als hätte ihn eine Kralle gut erwischt.

Am ganzen Leibe zitternd griff Seokjin nach dem Gewehr und erhob sich, deutete zitternd auf den Mann. Der sich nicht rührte, sein Gesicht blieb ausdruckslos. In der Dunkelheit knurrte es, diesmal kehlig und tief, und ein weißer Wolf schob sich langsam aus den Schatten und stellte sich vor dem kleinen Mann auf. Er taxierte Seokjin mit gelben Augen, das dichte Nackenfell stellte sich auf.

Seokjin stieß den angehaltenen Atem aus und ließ das Gewehr sinken, stemmte sich mit den Händen auf den Knien ab und blinzelte ein paar Mal gegen den Schwindel an, der ihn nach dem Überschuss Adrenalin zu übermannen drohte.

“O...kay. Okay, was zum Fick geht hier eigentlich ab?”

Der Wolf hatte sich wieder beruhigt, er wackelte mit einem Ohr und kam auf Seokjin zu, schnüffelte interessiert an dessen Schuhen bevor er in den dunklen Schlucht nach unten starrte. Der kleine Mann schob die Maske ganz vom Kopf und schob sie in den gigantischen Parka, zog eine Zigarre heraus und zündete sie an. Dann kam er näher, in den Schein der kleinen Lampe, und sah auf Seokjin herunter.

“Ihr Kinder… seid zur falschen Zeit am falschen Ort. Aber das waren die Jeon’s ja schon immer.”, murmelte er mit rauer, tonloser Stimme und zog ein weiteres Mal an der Zigarre, der Rauch stand kurz zwischen ihm und Seokjin. Seokjin schüttelte müde den Kopf: “Was… zur Hölle war dieses Wesen?”

“Das…”, begann der kleine Mann beinahe andächtig und kraulte dem Wolf, der sich an sein Bein presste, das dichte Nackenfell, “...war der Fluch dieses Berges. Das war der Wendigo.”