#brain too dead for coherent tags

[blinding-metaphysics]

MCSR Gift Exchange :3

Written as a gift for @im-bored-so-i-draw. I LOVE FLATMATE AU AKJFFJSD

@mcsr-mini-gift-exchange

[no1ryomafan]

I decide to change my pic to this fuck ass ryoma frame and I would say I have a new related ramble to accompany this but instead my brain has continuously wander back to the smallest detail of “how many fucking years was arma ryoma actually in jail” and I wish it didn’t because it’s so insignificant to the plot but my brain REFUSES to let it go.

[hitoshitoshi]

Telekinesis [Caleb x Fem!Reader 18+]

Summary:

Caleb bullies you for hours with his cock.

Or

Caleb puts his Telekinesis Evol to use.

Word Count: 1.3k words.

Tags: Inappropriate use of Evol, Power Dynamics, Consensual Sex, Dom/Sub, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Deepthroating

“Ah, ah, ah, Pipsqueak, don’t even think about it.”

Caleb was so mean — the meanest of the mean. You would think that someone who was part of the Deepspace Aviation Administration would be more put together outside of his work, but you were dead wrong. Because here Caleb was, leaning back on his gaming chair playing games online with his friends, headphones in, with a handsome smirk on his face as he was beating the other team round after round. And where were you? On his lap round after round.

Caleb replied to you, his voice brimming with a hint of condescension, masked with innocence and concern, "Well, Pipsqueak, it's not like you've been moving at all these past few hours. I've been doing that for you so you wouldn't get tired. I wouldn't ever let my darling Pipsqueak ever tire herself out." Caleb pressed his cheek against yours, his breath tickling your ear as he continued, "Plus, I want my Pipsqueak to feel good, yeah? You're gonna feel good for me?"

Your brain was already mush 3 hours ago, 10 rounds in, unable to think a single coherent thought as all you did was just moan and nod in agreement to Caleb's words. You always loved it when Caleb made you feel good. You always wanted to be good for Caleb. You just had to.

Caleb smirked as he gave you one last look before resuming his game, "That's my girl, Pipsqueak, just let your Caleb do all the work".

"Caleb," you whimpered out with your lips against Caleb's neck, tears were in your eyes with copious amounts of cum dripping from your spent pussy, your body moving up and down on his cock as though you were some doll. Well, you were, since Caleb was using his Telekinesis Evol to turn you into his cocksleeve— you looked pathetically ravishing. Just like how Caleb liked you to be. Caleb was so sweet to you outside of bed, yet he was the biggest bully ever in bed.

And you loved it. You loved it when Caleb would be like this to you — you loved being his toy. You loved it when he took control of your body and just let you feel. You loved how he could easily lift you up with his Evol so that only the tip of his cock was still in your pussy, and you loved it when he would drop you back down on his cock so that he would fill you up, so very deeply.

The contrast between the gentle caress of his cheek against yours and the relentless pounding of his cock inside you was driving you wild. Your overstimulated nerves sang with each thrust, each drop, each fill. Your walls clenched around him, milking his cock, your body responding even as your mind floated in a haze of pleasure.

"Look at you, Pipsqueak," Caleb murmured, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "So full of my cum, yet still so hungry for more. Aren't you greedy?" His words were punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that had you seeing stars.

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a breathy whimper. Your fingers weakly clutched at his shoulders, not being able to do anything as you were drunk on his cock. Caleb chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

"Can't even speak, can you? That's okay, Pipsqueak. Your body tells me everything I need to know." His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with unerring accuracy. The touch was almost too much, your oversensitive clit throbbing under his long fingers. As Caleb continued to use his Evol to move you on his cock, his fingers worked your clit in tandem. The dual stimulation had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm, your fifteenth? Twentieth? You'd lost count hours ago.

"Come on, Pipsqueak," Caleb urged, his voice strained with his own approaching climax. "One more for me. I know you can do it. Be a good girl and come on my cock." His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, pushed you over the edge. Your vision whited out as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body convulsing in Caleb's arms. You felt him follow you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you, adding to the flood of cum already filling you. As you came down from your high, completely limp as you collapsed right on top of him, Caleb's Evol gently lifted you off his cock. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and bereft. But Caleb wasn't done with you yet.

"Shh, Pipsqueak," he soothed, his hand stroking your hair. "We're not finished. I think it's time we put that pretty mouth of yours to work, don't you?"

Your eyes widened at Caleb's words, a mixture of anticipation and exhaustion coursing through your body. Despite your fatigue, the thought of tasting him, of pleasing him further, sent a thrill down your spine. Caleb's Evol gently maneuvered you, positioning you between his legs. Your face was level with his still-hard cock, glistening with the mixture of your combined fluids. The musky scent of sex filled your nostrils, making your mouth water involuntarily.

"Open up, Pipsqueak," Caleb commanded softly, his hand tangling in your hair.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting as Caleb guided his cock into your mouth. The familiar weight on your tongue, the salty-bitter taste of your mingled cum, had you moaning around him.

"That's it, Pipsqueak," Caleb groaned, his head falling back against the back of his chair. "Use that pretty little tongue of yours. Clean your Caleb up nice and good."

Your tongue swirled around his shaft, lapping up drop of cum on Caleb's cock — peppering sweet and soft kisses on his cock in between kitten-licks. Despite your exhaustion, you found yourself eagerly sucking and licking, driven by an insatiable desire to please him.

Caleb's Evol came into play once more, controlling the bobbing of your head on his cock. The pace was slow at first, allowing you to adjust, but soon picked up speed. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, but you relaxed into it, letting him use your mouth as thoroughly as he had used your pussy.

"Fuck, Pipsqueak," Caleb panted, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're so good for me. Such a perfect little cocksleeve, aren't you? First your pussy, now your mouth. I bet you'd let me use every hole if I wanted to, wouldn't you?"

You hummed in agreement around his cock, the vibrations causing Caleb to buck his hips, driving himself deeper into your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but they were tears of pleasure, of overwhelming sensation.

Caleb's other hand came to rest on your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. "Look at me, Pipsqueak," he commanded softly. You raised your eyes to meet his, seeing the mixture of lust and affection in his gaze. "That's my girl. So beautiful with your lips stretched around my cock." Caleb's Evol increased the pace, fucking your mouth faster and deeper. You could feel him swelling on your tongue, and knew he was close to another release. Your own arousal built again, your neglected pussy clenching around nothing.

"Gonna cum, Pipsqueak," Caleb warned, his voice strained. "You're going to swallow it all, aren't you? Be a good girl and don't waste a drop."

Moments later, Caleb's cock pulsed in your mouth, flooding it with his cum. You swallowed eagerly, your throat working to take every drop just as he'd commanded. The taste, the feeling of him using you so thoroughly, pushed you over the edge into another unexpected orgasm — you came untouched. As the last waves of pleasure subsided, Caleb gently withdrew from your mouth. Caleb's Evol lifted you once more, moving you to in his arms as he cradling you against his chest.

"Such a good girl for me," Caleb murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "My perfect little Pipsqueak."

A/N: No beta, no proofread, just horny. I just want Caleb to come home.

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

Click here to Join Linkon Lounge!

MASTERLIST

[hollyhomburg]

Before I leave you (Pt.67)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: You and Hobi bury a dead body (That's a lie, Yoongi buries it for you).

Tags: blood, gore, body horror, death, dead bodies, everyone is pretty beat-up in this, brief implied self-harm but it's very quickly squashed- seriously it's nowhere near as bad as past scenes but i do have to tag it, Dissociation, tae is in the freeze part of fight or flight. hurt/comfort, mental breakdowns, flashbacks, discussions of past abusive relationships, everything is very fluffy until it's not,

W/c: 12.5k

A/N: Are you guys ready for Hoseok's secret reveal??? I'm really excited!!! But also terrified because this whole series has lead up to this point!!! A good number of people have already guessed his secret so congrats on getting it early <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jimin sits on the stairs going down to the basement. His arm in a sling and bandaged up to the elbow. It aches with every small movement he makes as he peals a tangerine. He hasn't had any narcotics in a few hours and they're starting to wear off.

Jimin needs all of his brain power for this; For covering up the murder.

The fewer things running through his system the less sluggish and fuzzy his thoughts are. Jimin picks his poisons and fewer things make him less coherent than the panic and pain and near constant avalanche of thoughts. Tae, Tae's hurt, Tae's-

Tae's fine, Tae's upstairs with Y/n. he has to remind himself of these facts every few breaths. Tae's going to be okay because you wouldn't let anything happen to her.

There is evidence of that virtually everywhere; In the lines across your hands that Yoongi had dabbed at with a cool cloth, the swollen side of your jaw that he'd cradled. The blood drenching the opposite side of your face that he'd tenderly washed away. Not to mention the blood on the kitchen table, the floor, the ceiling. The blood splattered across your nest-

You don't fuck with an omega's nest; you don't fuck with their packmates.

Jimin quiets his brain with a steady breath as he looks down at Yoongi, Jin, and the body between the three of them wrapped in plastic.

He manages to peel the tangerine in his hand despite how uncooperative his left hand is. Numb at the fingertips just like it’s been since the surgery.

Namjoon had stroked his fingers and tested their give every chance he got, holding onto them and prodding while they waited in the hospital room and then again when Jimin got discharged. He said that they’d probably get better. Probably.

Tae's going to be fine because Namjoon is there too- had checked out her head with that soft alpha grumble croon of his. The most soothing sound in the world, and yet incapable of soothing this.

But Jimin knows nothing’s for certain, he might never get the feeling in his hand back. (This is Jimin's penance; The reminder of these tangled few weeks and how things went will be ever present. The reminder will be the first press of every touch with his non-dominant hand. He will never regain full feeling to the tips of his fingers. Never).

There are a few of noodle paw prints in the dust here, Jimin's ass is no doubt covered in it too from resting on the rickety stairs that lead into the half-finished basement. Little paw print marks that would make you coo and take pictures if you were down here.

But you’re not, you’re upstairs getting the evidence washed off of you.

No one's in that kind of mood right now anyway. No one’s been in that kind of mood for a few hours (or a few days, if he’s being honest, from Jungkook’s seizure, to getting shot, and then coming home to a dead body in their living room).

It’s been 4 hours since you killed someone in the kitchen. 3 hours since Jimin was discharged prematurely from the hospital and the rest of the pack was summoned home via a disturbingly calm call from Jin.

It’s been a tangle of moments even for the people not on hard drugs. Jimin feels like he's doing pretty good at answering the pack’s questions given the circumstances. You'd never know that, given Yoongi's eye roll and Jin's heavy sigh.

"Minnie- we're not asking you how you would have killed him just how you'd cover it up."

They used an old shower liner to wrap the body before they carried it downstairs. It makes a squeaky noise against Jin's rubber gloves (The pink elbow-high ones that he uses to do the dishes) as he pulls back the plastic sheet to reveal what's left of the assassin's head and face.

“I already told you, I don’t know his face- not even a little.” I’d have a pretty hard time identifying his face with the state she left it in regardless Is what he doesn't say.

Jimin tucks his chin, unsettled to look at the man's half-blown apart face for long. "I think he might be the spider but I don’t know. I never met him, only heard his name in passing.”

A small tattoo on the man's wrist reveals as much. A small spider tattoo that someone going to have to cut out and bury separately. Someone's going to have to get all of his teeth too- no identifying marks. None.

He’s a little too impressed with the state you’d left him in when he thinks about it. But once he’d seen your face and Hobi’s neck, not an inch of Jimin had felt the kill wasn’t justified. The whole pack feels that way, he knows they must even though they don't say it. Everyone's a little bit in shock right now.

Even Namjoon hadn’t even given the body a second glance when the pack had tumbled into the house. The pack alpha had simply alternated his fussing from you to Hobi to tae and then Jin. Torn between who needed him first. It was the first words Jimin had heard you speak. Your wet gasp, blood that wasn't yours flashing on your teeth. "Joonie- Hobi needs you."

Namjoon had calmed only once he realized that most of the blood on the three of you was the man’s. Yoongi had a similar reaction and so had Jimin, clutching at Tae. Angry at his arm for its uncooperativeness. About ready to tug off his sling and his bandages and stitches if it meant holding tae easier. He'd even tried it, only to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pack alpha growel too.

“Jimin you can’t; your stitches.”

“Fuck my stitches hyung.”

Numb fingers meet numb faces.

He's a bit ashamed of it, but when he first looked up from Tae to you- where you sat crumpled in Yoongi's hold. Your mate laying down a volley of sweet nothings to you to get you to stop shaking. There was only one sentence running through his head.

That’s my girl.

He'd reached over and squeezed your hand, blood and all. That blood has dried now. Soaked into the lines of his palm. Coloring his fate and love lines all rusty while he eats the tangerine. He should probably wash his hands. All of them probably need too.

Jungkook had been the only one willing to speak, closing the door softly behind him, locking it and treading softly closer. Careful to sidestep both the pools of blood and the piece of a skull sitting next to the couch. He looked down at the 7 of you with a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

"Can't we have one normal fucking day?"

Jungkook was the one who’d gone to the kitchen and gotten one of the hand towels to clean your face. His lips tightened to a line when he wiped away the blood and started to see the bruising, the cut across your temple dripping fresh. Lower lip wobbling ever so slightly.

“Kookie-”

Jungkook had turned to Jin and Namjoon, “I don’t want to deal with the body hyung." His hands were already under your arms, lifting you up, helpless. "Help me get them upstairs. We need to-” he’d let out a frustrated noise. Instincts coming to the full front- instincts he rarely feels.

Who knew blood would incur Jungkook's grooming instincts?

The last time Jimin saw Jungkook; He was helping Namjoon and Yoongi herd the three of you upstairs for a much-needed shower. Hobi hadn't been able to do it under his own power. Namjoon had to carry him.

Hobi; who's choked on every word he's tried to speak. Whose eyes are still red from all the burst blood vessels. Who easily got the closest to dying out of the four of you.

Everyone shakes when they touch Hobi and everyone touches him softly. Namjoon just about snaps his teeth at anyone who tries to get close. His hands turning red from the cold of an ice pack wrapped gently around the alpha's throat.

Jimin knows Jungkook's a lot more unnerved than he lets on, shuffling from foot to foot as he bound Tae up with a towel, taking her delicately from Jimin's arms. Carrying her in the same way Namjoon carried Hobi.

Yoongi was all soft helping you upstairs. Speaking in that quiet voice that he saves for Sunday mornings and stolen moments of quiet. Every moment, all of this is stolen.

And now- the beta is down here, leaning over the body and looking at it like it will tell him something that you won't. After your initial demand that Namjoon he tend to Hobi; you haven't spoken a word. Neither has Tae. Jin's done all of the talking.

There isn’t much to say.

Jimin feels the numbness in his hands and looks at Jin. He hasn't apologized for the bullet yet. But the more time that passes the less Jimin wants an apology. Mating marks come in many forms. Jimin has a scar on his body from one of his omega's- so really? What does he have to be upset about?

The whole house needs to be deep cleaned, and then deep cleaned again. There's blood everywhere; on the couch, the ceiling, the curtains. It's a lot to clean. It's going to be a lot to hide.

That's the only reason why Jimin's not upstairs helping you and Tae clean up right now; the body is unfortunately the biggest threat to the pack's safety at the moment.

There’s a bloodstain on the stairs too, a droplet next to where Jimin sits. he makes a mental note of it but doesn't move to wipe it up. He puts a tangerine slice on his tongue and chews before he answers Yoongi’s next question.

“I don’t know how to dispose of a body, I never dealt with this part. My only job was to kill, not take care of them after. I know there’s a way that you can do it with soap.”

Jin snorts, “You only know that from breaking bad-“

Jimin’s a little miffed, “We already have a plastic tub upstairs-”

“Lye,” Yoongi corrects, looking down at the body before he stoops to retape the plastic over the man's face. It was a bitch to wrap him up, the body stiff and heavy from rigor Mortis. The blood beneath it bubbles and darkens, coagulating. Yoongi's long hair falls over his face and he tucks it behind his ear.

“We could use the soap, but it might take a few days.” Jin clarifies.

“Do you think we can wait that long?”

“Absolutely not,” Jin’s got a similar ice pack to his wrists, the skin there bruised and red and swelling where he fought to get free from the handcuffs, where he eventually ripped down the banisters and broke through them with brute strength and panic.

You’d found the keys on the man’s body soon after and released him from the handcuffs, they're wrapped up in the plastic along with the frying pan, the gun that killed him, and a few other items from the living room that were just too bloodstained, every big piece of evidence will lie right beside him where he rests.

Jimin eats another slice of the tangerine, and Jin shrivels his nose at it. “Isn’t that a little gross?”

Yoongi mirrors his disgust. “Yeah Minnie, weren’t those covered in blood?”

But Jimin just shrugs, “I washed it and peeled it hyung” And keeps eating. After a few days of hospital food, the tangerines taste divine.

Yoongi stands from where he’s kneeling on his knees with a faint crack. “One part kitty litter, two parts concrete should keep out the smell,” Jin says, eyeing the 6 by-six-foot hole in the basement's foundation, already there from the plumbing that needed replacing.

Most of Yoongi's tools are down here too. His scrap pile of wood and the dozen bags of concrete. His hack saw and his circular saw that none of them are looking at. Yoongi had only just fit in the plumbing a few weeks ago. He'd been about to re-pour the foundation anyway.

“I’d rather not have a body buried in our house.”

Yoongi touches Jin’s wrist, so feather-light, removing the ice pack to check the swelling to see if it’s gone down. Jin's left hand is just as useless as Jimin's, the knuckles bruised and ballooned.

“It’s just for a few weeks, we can deal with this once it’s all calmed down, but we absolutely can’t go try and bury it. Who knows what the neighbors heard?”

They're all silent at that, silent at the idea that these few hours might be the last few that the pack spends free.

But over the next few hours, there are no blue and red flashing lights outside or concerned neighbors that come knocking. Your one saving grace is that this all happened during the middle of the day and all of your nearest neighbors have nine to five's. Is it so simple to hope that everyone was just at work? That no one heard the gunshots over the nearby roar of the passing train?

(Maybe they're just too used to the pack next door; the one that has the noisy ruts and noisy noisy packmates. The one whose alphas have a habit of opening the windows in the back room and let the sound of their roughhousing and video games flood the street. The ones who have extra loud movie nights. They're just a bunch of kids, how harmful could they really be? At least the pack alpha and omega look respectable.)

It's a good thing that no one comes; because Namjoon has more important problems, more important things to handle beyond the body in the basement or the police at the door.

Namjoon’s hands cradle Hobi’s neck. He wheeze as he tries to speak, his mouth falling open. He's mostly clean, but a rusty trickle of water from his hair trails down his shoulders.

Jungkook tugged him into the shower first and gave him a rough clean before handing him back to Namjoon. They sit on a towel together on the edge of the nest. they only moved him in here to give him some privacy- to distract him because Hobi kept reaching for you. you'd kept reaching back, tae was already in the shower under the stream.

"Pup- your hands- you're going to hurt yourself."

The Nestroom is dark and quiet. Every single blind in the house is draw. Only the christmas lights illuminate Hobi's injuries. Namjoon will tend to Tae and then you after he's checked out Hobi's injuries. will send him downstairs with Jin for some cold water to soothe his throat once he's done. once he's been cleaned again probably.

Hobi was covered with the most blood, having been just under the man when Tae had blown his throat apart while you- Namjoon doesn't want to think of it, doesn't want to see it.

(Namjoon thinks of every moment, sees them behind every blink. Blink and he sees you sitting in his lap over breakfast squirming happily. Blink and you're kneeling in a bloody puddle looking up at him.

Blink and you're curled up in the nest wearing the first pajama pants he'd given you. Blink and he's watching Jungkook dab at your bloody cheek, blink and you're turning into his hand to nuzzle as he wakes you for sunday morning breakfast. Blink and there’s sunlight spilling across your face and blood slipping down your chin. Namjoon's smallest and most sensitive pup not so innocent anymore.)

Namjoon touches Hobi's throat with no small amount of reverence. it cools the anger in his throat. Namjoon's anger has no good place to go.

When Hobi closes his eyes, he sees it too; the explosion of the bullet and the splat of blood pouring down his face. The shower earlier felt so similar- he almost couldn't handle it. He had to concentrate on Jungkook's voice narrating everything.

"Here Hobi, I'm gonna use some soap now. I like Tae's body wash. You know she always just picks whatever bottles are pinkest because she wants all her toiletries to match. It smells good, doesn't it? Can you take a deep breath for me? Through your nose?"

Endless meaningless Jibber jabber to distract all of them.

Now he shivers and shakes in Namjoon's hold. One part terror and one part near frostbite. Namjoon turns the heat up but Hobi still shakes as Namjoon checks his throat. "Open for me baby- that's a good boy."

He flashes a light down there, listening with his stethoscope. The cold metal end of it presses against his collarbones and the bruises too. Finger-shaped that lace over his jugular like a collar. Over Hobi's heart. Every thump ba-thump ba-thump music to Namjoon's ears.

Namjoon’s growl is soothing as he scoots closer to gather the injured alpha close to his chest. Shushing Hobi as he tries to speak for the dozenth time in the last hour. “Don’t try it, careful- I don’t think he did any lasting damage but-”

Namjoon breaks and his forehead drops to Hoseok’s shoulder, fingers rub out soothing circles on Hobi's wrist even as he starts to cry. Namjoon already stitched up the deep puncture wound there. He had to hold his wrist still as he dabbed the stingy antiseptic, the impulse to pull it away too great. The wound wasn't from a bullet but from the piece of the door that embedded itself in Hobi’s wrist. Blown apart the way he could have been.

Namjoon was so close to losing everything, to losing them.

The bruises, Hobi’s eyes, and his little raspy breaths. Everything both punishment and payment for every violent thing Namjoon wants to do. He feels powerless to do more than hold the smaller alpha right now. The strength in his arms doing little to protect Hobi from the hurts he's already nursing. Hoseok leans his head on Namjoon's shoulder and Just lets the alpha hold him.

If he’d come home to the four of you dead what would he have done? more accurately- What wouldn’t he have done?

Namjoon imagines it- the same way he's imagined it thousands of times. Tae's blood on her lips as pretty as any lip stain. Jin on the floor, his little big love wrapped up in permanent stillness like a mating shroud. Your body turned small and quiet the way you'd been when he'd met you- only so much worse. Hobi with his heart slow and absent of his near-constant music. Bodies stiff as statues, turned alters meant to worship both grief and love.

He’d probably have demanded Jimin and Yoongi tell him everything they knew. And then he’d have gone hunting.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and pulls away from Hoseok only to continue dabbing at his wounds. The violence of his alpha's instincts calmed by the sanctity of this- of making it better. of being gentle even when namjoon wants to be anything but.

Hoseok’s mute. Throat too swollen to make more than a soft hissing sound on command. Vocal cords not damaged just swollen. Leaving his brain to hurdle through the last few hours. Eyes closed but his mind wide open.

He sees it all behind his eyes; your hand descending with the frying pan, the explosion of wood near his head. The splat of hot blood against the wood floor. Gasping and getting blood in his mouth accidentally. Choking in it- drowning a little. Everything. The sting of smoke on his eyes. Your words ring in his ears like the final notes of a symphony.

“You can take me. I’ll go with you. Willingly. That’s what she wants isn’t it?”

Hoseok’s brain teases through what you might have meant with that. The unnamed she that you mention. Who, why, and what aren’t you telling them? Is it the woman that Yoongi talked to you about before?

He's unable to say anything to Namjoon even as the alpha softy cradles his damaged throat. Unable to even whisper it out through the swelling that threatens to cut off Hobi's airway. It feels like he's breathing through a straw. Namjoon says he's not going to choke, that it only feels that way. The panic is hard to let go of.

But who do you have to go back to there? You've never talked about the family like you wanted them, like they were your pack. Who have you run from? What monsters are here to haunt you? Who is after you? Or is it something darker- more sinister?

Maybe Hoseok's heart has never truly healed from Yoongi leaving them. Maybe a wounded heart remembers. Yoongi always had them to go back to that Hoseok had never questioned. But he's never wondered about you or stopped to consider that maybe, Yoongi's not the only one who left something.

The family doesn't exactly seem like something you can walk away from unscathed. Yoongi managed it, but Jimin didn't.

Hoseok should warn Namjoon, should tell someone but- it's impossible. His airway protesting with an agonizing twinge with every attempt he makes at speaking. He wonders if this is what being nonverbal felt like for you.

The pain pulses dully without adrenaline to dilute it as Namjoon so lovingly examines the marks, again and again. But he shouldn't be spending so much time. You and Tae are bruised and battered too- even if Hoseok’s are by far the worst; you need tending to.

Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival.

Hoseok thinks of the body, not the one that sits downstairs, but the one that you found months ago in the ocean. Maybe this wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe none of this was. How far back do the coincidences go? Between Jin and Yoongi who wouldn't have a relationship to stand on without Yoongi's family- how many other things in the pack are because of this?

Hoseok struggles to speak, to talk to Namjoon about what you'd almost done, what you'd almost bartered- but nothing but air comes out, and the pack alpha shushes him. His hands grip Namjoon's shoulders hard.

Namjoon wishes he had more than just numbing cream and sutures for Hobi’s hurts. Jimin’s already offered up some of his opioids for Hobi to sleep and as much as Namjoon hates the idea of anyone swapping medication- Hobi might actually need them.

Jimin’s doctor had been a little bit liberal with them, sure that his 6 on the pain scale had to be at least a 9. He could spare one or two. The truth is that nothing hurts more than this- seeing the people that you love in pain. Jimin and Namjoon save their 10s for days like this.

With the blood cooling, Namjoon’s anger has nowhere to go. The body in the basement has already gone cold.

In the quiet of the house they can audibly hear Seokjin and Yoongi start mixing the concrete. The dull scrape of a shovel against a bucket and the sound of a faucet dripping.

Namjoon wipes at Hobi’s throat, and Hoseok tries again- futile in his efforts to speak. Namjoon shushes him.

In the basement it goes; drip, scrape, drip.

~-~

Jungkook holds Tae up underneath the warm spray of water. The glass is foggy in places and clear and others, occasional spots of red water joining the constellation of them. She rests against Jungkook's chest, her body is prone and almost lifeless. Eyes vacant and glassy.

So shaky and tired as her body rockets down from its adrenaline high. A drop so abrupt that she could hardly hold herself up. A drop so terrifying that Jungkook must do it for her.

He doesn't mind, none of him minds as he cradles the back of her head oh so gently. Tae flinches, whether from pain or the sudden movement. Jungkook meets Jimin's eyes through the foggy glass and then yours. Biting his lower lip before Jimin nods and tells him to keep going.

Evidence is evidence. Washing off can’t wait.

Jimin has joined you upstairs with the body already packed away and on its way to being buried under the foundation of the house. Jimin watches on from outside the shower as he instructs Jungkook in a quiet voice on how to clean Tae of evidence properly. He's been quiet since then. Staring at them while Tae stares blankly back.

You watch them from where you sit. Mostly you just watch Tae. When Namjoon's body doesn’t block your view. He stitches the gash on your forehead, hands pulling the sutures closed in a gentle and practiced way. The pass of the needle through your skin a distant sensation.

The wounds on your hands are in that awkward place of not being deep enough for stitches but still a little too deep to not need something. After a brief debate, Namjoon sealed them with a bit of non-surgical glue that stung terribly and then regular gauze over the top.

Your hands are swelling and clotting. Scabbing although trying to touch anything is too painful. Closing your fingers at all hurts. Namjoon holds you so lightly it hardly feels like he's holding you at all.

Namjoon apologizes after every wince.

The second he’s done he tosses his suture kit into the bathroom sink with a clang the second he’s done. Namjoon gets on his knees before you. The plastic that covers the whole bathroom crackling as he does.

Jimin had the great idea to cover the bathroom with sheets of plastic to cut down on the cleanup. Hoseok's bloody footprints join Tae's trailing from the doorway to the shower. Join the trail that you left. Parts of you are still dripping.

"It's going to scar," Namjoon says, a little sadly. Thumb skimming over the mark on your forehead.

You swallow hard. You still taste blood. You want to brush your teeth; you want to shut the lights off and go to sleep. You want Noodle and you want Yoongi you want everything from the past few hours- the past few years to be gone and over with. You want-

You want to snap at him and tell him that it doesn't matter that it will scar. That you're covered with scars already and you don't care but-

Namjoon kisses your forehead. A lingering brush. The one spot that's not bloody.

You look over at Tae and her eyes flicker blankly to you. Jungkook keeps bringing the boar bristle brush up and down her back in soothing little circles.

When you turn back to Namjoon he's pursing his lips and blinking away tears as he looks down at your hands. You resist the urge to say you’re sorry. You’re not sure what for. The terrible feral hunger in you gone as quick as it's come.

Namjoon’s fingers wrap around the hollow of your knees, and you meet his eyes, even though you don’t want to. It feels too much like a confession already.

“I’m going to say this now, before you get any ideas; This is not your fault and I am not mad at you and Tae for doing what you did-”

“Namjoon-”

He continues on, words rushing out. “I’m proud of you pup, so proud. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here. I promise I won’t disappoint you again as pack alpha-” You cover his mouth with your hand, gauze and all.

The bit of gauze over your palm is already turning bloody. It's hard to tell if it's your blood or if it's his. You’re the last one to shower. The last one to get clean. Namjoon shouldn’t be touching you at all.

And yet he does, yet he cradles your face, brushes the tears from your cheeks, gets blood on his hands. Evidence is evidence, but love has a steeper sort of price if you don't express it when you can.

When you take your hand away, Namjoon doesn’t try to speak again. someone says something that you don't hear, that you can't hear.

Namjoon stands and when you look up, Jungkook has the shower door open for you.

Because the bandages and the glue on your hands can’t get wet Namjoon binds your hands with Ziplock bags and duct tape. The plastic rustles, and you follow Hobi's bloody footprints into Jungkook’s arms. Namjoon closes the door behind you.

Every bit of plastic is going to get melted down later, until all the blood and terror evaporates through something as simple and trivial as fire. Fire will cleanse it of all evidence, as sure as the burning water you step under.

You're not quite sure what you're going to do about the bullet holes in the walls or the blown-apart door to the upstairs bedroom, but Yoongi’s always had a handle on the home improvement stuff.

Jungkook helps you disrobe off your bloodied clothing. Lifting your shirt over your head and stooping, telling you to hold onto his shoulders so that he can take off your sweatpants. You're pretty sure they're Yoongi's but there's no time to get sentimental as he puts them inside a garbage bag along with Tae's and Hobi's clothes.

Everything on your person is evidence. When you look back Namjoon's gone, summoned by Jin's distant call from downstairs. It's just Jimin outside of the shower. watching you, but mostly watching Tae.

You’d be more self-conscious of your nude body if your brain wasn’t still racing. It’s hard to do much with the bags on your hands. But Jungkook squirts out a healthy dollop of your favorite shampoo and gets to work once the conditioner is in Tae’s hair. She sits like a discarded ball-jointed doll on the built-in bench. Her long hair hair stuck like a sheet over her eyes.

Nothing is as important as making sure you’re not found out. And the frothy shampoo turns rusty around Jungkook's fingers. You have to have a lot of blood on your face. All the water that rolls off of you goes pink.

Jungkook is gentle even by your hairline scratching against your scalp with his fingers. The skin there is tender. Namjoon taped a bit of gauze over the sutures too. You don't remember when he did that.

You make a noise. “Too rough?” his voice has something unreadable in it, something soft and concerned.

You don't respond because Yoongi makes his reappearance at the doorway. The black shirt he wears is dusty at the front from the concrete. His eyes single focused on you the second he enters the room. You stare at him the way that Tae stares at Jimin. Jungkook just huffs and pulls you a little more snugly against his chest.

Tae stands in the corner of the shower, still staring at Minnie. Minnie who stares back, practically not blinking. Both of their anguish are hidden behind glass. Like fish in tanks that could never get out. Not really.

Part of Tae gets washed away down the drain. Swirling and gurgling down and down with no one to notice.

Tae stares off blankly into space. Sometimes Jimin talks to her and sometimes he hums through the glass, he'd be in there too if his bandages couldn't get wet either. If Namjoon hadn’t yanked him back from the doorway and told him that he couldn't.

Jungkook takes the boar bristle brush to your body too. Everything has to be scrubbed multiple times until your skin feels nearly raw from it. Tae’s fingernails, her arms, your neck, the side of your face, the hollow at the inside of your arms. Your knees. Everywhere.

He apologizes when he goes over bruises, wincing, clutching you a little tighter, a little closer to make up for the pain. But Jungkook is meticulous as he cleans of evidence until you feel groomed clean. Until there’s no more blood swirling down the drain just clear water, and the light outside has turned pearly and blue in the twilight.

Tae's still silent. She's been quiet beyond the occasional heartbreaking whimper since you both killed that man. Eventually, You push at Jungkook's hands with a pointed look in her direction where she's slumped and he goes with a soft nod. Two omega's taking care of their alphas.

Jungkook’s delicate with Tae’s head, gentle in the way he cradles the bruising, half hidden by her hair. Washing out the conditioner with a quiet hum. Namjoon had diagnosed her with a concussion pretty quickly, it's not a crack in her skull plate but she's not going to go putting her hair up in a bun any time soon.

Jungkook alternates from you to Tae. One moment you're standing, the next Jungkook is taking you up gently from the floor and Yoongi is at the glass, hand on the door- looking at you anxiously. Letting out a volley of cursing. You can't remember the last time you heard him use language like that.

"Hyung she's fine- she's just slippery, I've got her."

Their voices are so soft and grave and so quiet. Or is it just that you can’t hear it? Why are their voices so far away and muffled? Sometimes Yoongi is here and sometimes he isn't. Sometimes Jungkook is holding you, talking to Namjoon about something, and other times he and Yoongi are talking. Keeping their voices low. Your ears ring. It's so loud it deafening.

“Do you need me to take over?” Yoongi asks Jungkook. Jungkook has blood on his feet, from you or Tae you’re not sure, it soaks the hair there. Jungkook’s got hairy fucking feet for an omega- you’re not sure why you’re concentrating on it. Why you’re noticing all these things now. Cataloging little things about them like you might never get the chance to notice them again.

Your heart beats quick, fear still consuming you even though the danger has passed. You look down at the tiled floor and the room spins.

You don’t feel a thing when you close your eyes. You don’t feel anything when you think of the man that you just killed. You don’t feel anything but roaring, like the crashing of the ocean or the sound when you lift your ear to a shell. The hearing in your left ear where the gun went off feels…off, muffled. You put your hand up to toy with it and freeze when you realize it isn't right.

"Guys" You paw at your ear. But they don't seem to hear you.

"No, I've got them.”

“We need to clean up the downstairs. Kookie, where do you keep the oxyclean?”

"Guys"

They still don't hear you. Maybe you're not making a sound at all just mouthing the words. Your movement gets Tae's attention and her eyes focus for the first time in hours. Slumped on the bench, her hand grips the tiled edge hard as she tries to stand but can't. Jungkook hands Yoongi something through the steam, the black trash bag full of bloody clothes.

The notice Tae trying to get to you first. she hits the floor with a small thud and tugs her way over to you. You make a noise in your throat- a distressed chirp that makes the alphas flinch. Tae cups your cheek as you dig your finger in, slippery from the plastic- and pull something small and fleshy out of your ear.

It's soft and squishy. A curved piece of pink and white brain matter. A little bloody but bleached from the water.

You try to stand to your feet but teeter, shaking, staring down at the chunk of person that you just got out of you, that was just in you.

For a second, no one says anything, but then-

“That’s so fucking gnarly.” Your head jerks up in Jungkook’s direction.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Tae actually does look a little green, but it's good to hear her voice at the very least. She hauls herself over to the drain and starts to dry heave.

"Oh tae don't-" the sound of vomit hitting the floor joins the sound of the shower. You don't look at her. just at the lump of person in your hand.

"Someone please take it from me," Jimin is already there opening the glass door and holding out a cloth for you to place it in.

Yoongi presses his hands to the glass as he watches you struggle to grab the brush that Jungkook was using on you from the floor after finally getting your feet under you. Jungkook is torn, his hand on Tae's shoulder as she wretches turning from her to you like he doesn't know what to do or who to help first.

You don't care about the state of your hands you just need to get clean. You Ignore the twinge of pain in your hands as you try and get the bottle of body wash open. Ripping off the plastic bags that cover your hands when you can't unclick the cap immediately. frustrated and panicking. You ignore Jimin calling your name. The gauze falls to the floor with a wet thwack and you take the boar bristle brush to your hands. Cuts and all.

Big hands stop you. Hands that dwarf yours. Hands that you'd know blind.

Yoongi's standing under the spray fully clothed, the water pinning down his hair and quickly soaking him. His hands tangling with yours, taking the brush from you. Wordless as he grabs your wrists and jerks you forward hard.

He holds on until you stop shaking. resting against his chest. guiding your face to his scent gland. "Take a deep breath for me now sweetheart- there you go- just like that."

Jungkook doesn't say anything and neither does Jimin, not as Yoongi starts to wash you again. Jungkook just stoops to lift Tae and place her back on the bench. She goes easy, limp, and doll-like. But she's almost done- she's almost clean. Tae pushes at Jungkook’s shoulders.

"I’m fine. I need to wait for the nausea to pass before I try getting out of here.”

With you, it's going to take a little longer.

Jungkook has already shampooed your hair, but he does it again. The telltale signs of rusty red in the peach-scented shampoo. Bubbling orange-pink. Yoongi does it slower, gentler- it feels more normal. Like the slow loving you're used to.

“Do you ever feel like-” your voice is a little crackly from all the screaming you did earlier. You hate how the terror makes you not remember all the details. Did you make any sound while you killed him? Did you say anything through the rage?

The others are looking at you but you have eyes for just Jimin. his hand tightens to fists, knuckles pressed against the glass. eyes darkening ever so slightly. “Do you ever not feel guilty? About killing people Minnie?”

You are nude, as bare as you’ve ever been before him, it's hard to be self-conscious about it. Maybe this would be a little sexier- showering with Tae and Jungkook and Yoongi with an audience if you weren't literally trying to cover up a very violent murder.

You remember the words Jimin had said to you weeks ago now. “Would you kill for me?” “I’d do worse” you wonder if this qualifies as worse. You can’t imagine what would be much worse than this.

Jungkook's hands are rough as they massage a bit of soap down your back but instead of being comforting, it feels like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.

Jimin hums. Eyeing Tae still sprawled on the built-in bench. Jimin gathers his thoughts before he speaks. “In my contract, at the beginning-” He starts but cuts off as you start to slip. Jungkook's hands find you, helping Yoongi hold you up more properly. Your mate doesn't let Jungkook take you entirely just moves a bit to the side to give him space. Any other day you'd love to be in the middle of a yoonkook sandwich but-

“Your contract?” he nods, blond hair bobbing. Yoongi meticulously removes the dried blood from under your fingernails, careful to hold your glue sutures out of the direct spray.

“I specified that I’d only ever kill bad people. of course I got a little lazier after I got used to it." He shoots an anxious glance in Tae's direction, but she's still just sitting. "But at the beginning, I’d go back and look through their files to try to find out what they’d done to warrant a hit getting taken out on them. I couldn’t always find a reason but most of the time I did."

You can see it in his face, that Jimin doesn't want to say that they deserved it. Because if they deserved a violent ending then you could say the same about the 8 of you. Jungkook's hands get a little close to the nape of your neck and you turn to him and snap.

"Don't scruff me."

"Sorry." You need it. Is what he doesn't say.

“Most of the time it was worth it?” You cling to his words. With Geumjae you’d never had to guess if he deserved it or not but this-

Jimin’s eyebrows are brought into a hard line, “Karma is a fickle thing. Sometimes it never comes but-” his eyes are downcast, "Sometimes it's a good thing, being the karma."

You sit quietly, digesting his words. Your lower lip trembles, and you don’t know if you feel terrible or better when the tears just won’t come. Yoongi delicately cradles your body, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling you back against his chest.

“Yoongi.”

“Let me hold you for a minute.” You do, body sagging under the weight of your exhaustion.

Tae teeters in Jungkook’s hold, but she pushes against his hands weakly when he tries to make her stand again. Her voice sounds warbly and fragile when she shakes her head. “I’m still dizzy.”

He tries to guide her gently back to the bench, but she doesn't make it that far. Pushing away his hands when she descends to the marble floor. Closer to the wall, Closer to Minnie who mirrors her, falling to the floor too. Getting as closer to her as he can without being in the shower.

Jimin lets out a sad and bitter-sounding laugh and Tae smiles in reply while Jungkook and Yoongi share an anxious glance over your head.

He's still grinning, words twisting, eyes shining with sorrow and fondness. “You couldn’t wait 24 hours until you had to make it even, didn’t you?”

Tae closes her eyes as her smile twists and she starts to cry “Where you go, I go. We’re the same now Minnie.” Jimin doesn't mean to ask what she means. He knows.

If you're a killer I'm a killer. If you're damned, I'm damned. Even though neither of them believes in God or heaven or damnation. Not really. Not anymore. It's very half-hearted.

(I don't know if it's worth wondering if the people you love are bad people, I think when worse comes to worse, you just put the heaviness down and keep on loving them anyway).

Jimin’s eyes are soft on her, the way that they only ever are with Tae. He places his hand on the glass fogging around his fingertips. She doesn’t match his hands, just leans her cheek against it. Love is only a thin layer of glass away.

You know it hurts her a little bit, must make the dysphoria a little harder to breathe through, to let Jimin and Jungkook see her like this; just the long hair and nothing delicate to cloth her soul in. A soul that now you’ve irreparably tarnished.

A soul that is damaged beyond repair now thanks to you.

It is your fault. All of this is because of you. all of this pain and anguish and damage is because of the choices you've made. the stupid idiotic childish choices. If you'd never needed it- if you'd just been strong enough- Tae could have been whole. Tae could have been unharmed. Hobi and Jin too- if you’d just-

Back at the hospital, Tae had so many questions about Jimin’s job, so many questions about when and where, and why. But she finds her head empty of them in the aftermath. She has no desire to learn anything else about Jimin’s job. Not now that she knows what killing feels like.

Tae is never going to be able to look at red nail polish the same way again.

Jungkook reaches over and turns off the water.

~-~

Eventually, you finish washing. Wrapped up in fluffy white towels that will have to be burned too. The house smells like bleach and gunpowder. It covers everything.

Even the noodle is looking a little more grubby than usual when he zips by, meowing for someone to give him attention. You hear the saw going and you know that Yoongi is cutting the bullet holes out of the walls while the others clean up the blood.

Your skin feels pink and sensitive were the towel brushes as you go looking for pajamas, you'll get some for the others too. Later, Jin will fuss and ask to put some cream on you. Will massage it in something of an apology and pretend that Yoongi isn't going over the whole house with a blacklight to spot any errant blood splatters.

Later Yoongi will take a wood scraper to the floorboards where the man died, will rip them up, and burn them in the house's ancient fireplace just to be sure that no one finds any evidence.

You'll all pretend that Tae doesn't shake through a panic attack when you have an informal dinner in the nest. jin's rule of "no food in the nest" broken for this. You'll all pretend that Hoseok won't choke choking on all but the smallest sips of water. You'll all pretend. You're good pretenders, good liars too.

Later, Jin will put cream on your skin and dot it all with kisses, the swelling in his hands won't take too long to go down. You'll get the love and You won’t deserve a single second of it.

You don't know how you fooled yourself into thinking you ever deserved it. The last 8 months have been stolen. Not earned.

The one-year anniversary of Geumjae's death comes and passes as you go to the top of the stairs in your towel, Ears straining to hear what's going on downstairs.

There is a lot of talking going on downstairs, between Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. About what to do, and how to handle this. Hushed voices kept mostly out of earshot. And other more dangerous questions get asked, with equally as dangerous answers.

One of Jimin's guns sits on the kitchen counter through all of it. No one moves to put it away. They're not sure when they're next going to need it and they'd rather not get caught off guard again.

“I could talk to some people- call them. Some people owe me favors, There has to be some section of the family that doesn’t want her too-“

"Absolutely Not, I am not having you get into some weird ass mafia debt"

"Yeah, jailcell orange is so not your color hyung"

“We stay quiet. For the next 48 hours- it’s likely no one will know what happened. They’re too hurt- we need some time to regroup and think.”

Hobi’s voice is absent from the fray. You hear something quite like he's trying to speak, and someone shushing him softly. Namjoon says that his swelling won’t go down enough to talk until tomorrow. You hear the sound of someone opening the refrigerator to get ice.

The door to the bedroom has been blown apart, and a flurry of bullet holes chewed through the top corner. It sits off its hinges and in two pieces.

You remember watching Yoongi paint the door, sitting at the bottom of the stairs while he worked at the top of it and painted it to match the wallpaper in the staircase, a dark cobalt blue. You remember all of it, every little thing you watched him do to make this house into something worthwhile. To make it into a home and now it's riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood.

It's funny, you hardly remember every little thing he did for you, to make you worthwhile.

You have always been a reminder that you don't make houses out of abandoned buildings, and mates out of monsters that bite.

The water has turned the cuts on your hands white and gummy when you look down at them in the closet room. They’re already oozing, not bleeding, it will be at least a day or two until you can touch anything without discomfort. Namjoon will scold you ever so gently later and re-do your bandages.

The pink curtains are drawn already to keep out any wandering eyes from the outside. This is a dressing room after all. The whole room feels like a blush-toned jewel box and you, the one piece of cheap costume jewelry at the center.

You get up and shut the door before you sit on a small poof- something silky and tufted that Jimin had gotten Tae right after she'd come out.

You sit in your towel and look down at your wounds. Thinking about Tae's concussion. Jin's wrists. Hobi's throat. Both of their blank looks and the violence of death and trying to live. You think it all through, every possible ending to this before you pick up your phone and dial Her number.

Moonbyul picks up on the first ring. It’s like she’s been waiting for your call.

“Did you like your courting present pup?”

Your throat is dry and you don’t know exactly what to say, even less how to say it. She hums at your silence, an alpha's imitation of a purr. Waiting until your quietness builds to a frantic pulse.

In the pack, you've always been the one with the best survival instincts. Geumjae made you this way. Although the pack has spent the last few months trying to heal you; deep down you know you've never been anything more than a scared animal. Fight or Flight. Freeze or fawn.

Bullet to bullet. Tooth to tooth. Heartbeat to heartbeat. This time is different. This time you have something worth protecting.

You stand, no longer able to sit. There is a noise at the door, and you wait with bated breath for someone to come in. They don't come. But you stand and move farther inside. Hoping that the distance will disguise the sound of your whispered conversation.

She continues when it becomes clear you're struggling to speak. “I’ve got another one on the way. Hyejin’s here, wanna say hello? You’re on speaker.”

“Pup,” she giggles, and you feel like you might vomit. It’s a struggle really, not to end the call right there, not to let the fear overtake you. “We haven’t heard back from Spider yet, and I have a feeling someone’s been a little naughty.”

You lift the curtain to look outside, the train chugs past and the cars flit by like the fast small birds searching for seed in the snow. The whole world is grey and flat. The sky is orange from the lights of the city reflecting the clouds. The trees bare of all but a few crumbly leaves. It’s strange how all at once, the train is all you can look at. All you can think about.

You think about hoseok, the night at the train tracks where he stopped you from leaving. When he asked you to stay.

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to do to get you to stop this, please.” Your voice sounds off, even for you. Too flat, strange even to your ears.

“I’m afraid we’re too far along for that.”

"Please, please Moonbyul-" You turn, pacing back towards the door. Past Tae’s clothes, past yours, past Jungkook’s, past the alcove where Hobi hangs his sweatshirts for you. You pause there. Looking at them.

“You said- you said when it was over you’d give me anything I wanted. Well I want them alive. Even if-"

Your voice is so shaky, you're careful to make sure you're not overheard. The pack is in the other room, just downstairs. You can hear the distant hum of their sweet voices; the people you love always sound like a melody. Your absence hasn’t been noticed yet.

"Even if I’m not here.”

For once they’re silent on the other end of the line. It’s a full silence, filled with one part lust and one part hunger. Both of them are like Noodle playing with a mouse. Waiting for the right time to drive their teeth in and end this game.

But even mice have teeth. Your hand is holding your phone so hard that the plastic makes your bones ache and your cuts bleed fresh.

“If you don’t let them live, I'll never stop fighting. But if you want me to be willing- If you want me to be your pup the way I think you do."

You can’t even close your hand into a fist with how wrecked your hands are. They hurt with every clumsy movement. you hold the phone. Your every heartbeat lurching with the horror of what you're doing.

I can’t lose them; I can’t be the reason why they die. They'll keep sending people until we're all dead unless I do something.

“All of them, all of them need to be safe, Jimin- you need to let him go of his contract and let him go back to living a normal life and you need to not punish Jin for working for the FBI.” Your words rush over themselves. "Leave my pack alone and I’ll be obedient. I'll be yours. I’ll never try and go back to them again. I won’t ever try and leave. I promise.”

Moonbyul and Hyejin are silent on the other end of the phone. You wait for a few moments. They must be looking at each other, deliberating.

Everything in this room aches. The closet bedroom that Yoongi made he made for you. The wainscotting just so. Everything in this house was crafted with an equal amount of love.

It was never meant to be yours forever, you’ve been keenly aware of this fact since the moment you met Yoongi. Since the moment you met his eyes across the dining room table and the moment his teeth met your skin. Borrowed things don't belong, they never do. Good things do not last. You only get them for as long as you get them and not a moment longer.

You're looking at Hobi's sweatshirts, in the alcove where he stacks them for you to take when Moonbyul and Hyejin respond.

“We'll agree to those terms, but remember their safety depends on your performance."

"You have 24 hours to get to us pup. Make them count.”

The dial tone drones like a funeral drum.

~-~

(Hoseok, a few years prior)

The backroom at the record shop is cramped with all sorts of things from a bygone era;

A mini fridge with a decrepit desktop computer and logbook balanced atop it. Pictures and bulletins glued to the wall from the 1960's. A greasy coffee machine piled high with bags of expired tea. A cramped spot for employees to hang their coats and a yellowing old table with a pair of chairs; both occupied by people also out of place. a beta that has a thing for 1980's rap and an alpha with a broken heart who admittedly loves 2010's pop.

A poster of some glittery showgirl omega from the 20s bats her eyelashes down at Hoseok as he has a mental breakdown. Offering neither comfort nor absolution nor love.

Maybe if he'd been born an omega like that, it would have been easier. Maybe they'd have wanted him then.

Yoongi's hands rub down Hoseok's shoulder, his back, places only lovers have touched. Up and down. An endless circle. An ouroboros of affection nibbling Hoseok's fickle heart. Hoseok aches harder with every passing moment.

Yoongi looks at the clock as Hoseok continues to sob. The shop should be open right now but Yoongi won't let it. It can go out of business for all he cares. As long as no one makes Hoseok get up from this chair before he's ready.

Beta instincts are fickle things, but Yoongi has always had a third sense. Something in him always knows if people are trustworthy and if they need him. Something in their scents or faces or eyes- like small planets reflecting the cosmos back to them. Do planets bear life only when someone is willing to look for them? Do people only deserve help when they're willing to ask for it? or is it like this?

Eventually, Hoseok gets his breath back in his chest and his sobs quiet down. His eyes open bloodshot. All sadness has an expiration date (thankfully). Yoongi's hand slides down his arm and gives his hand a firm squeeze (and stays there).

It's the first time someone's touched Hoseok without wanting something in God knows how long but he's too sad to properly appreciate it or savor it. (Yoongi doesn't want anything from him that Hoseok wouldn't willingly give. Doesn't want anything but his smile. fuck- he's just a co-worker, isn't he?). Who knows when the next touch like this might come? (Yoongi is going to hold his hand tomorrow because Yoongi likes holding people's hands, Jin will give him the tacit permission to do that at least. But all of the pack are keenly aware that Hoseok needs time to heal, no matter how obvious Yoongi's crush and Hoseok's needs).

(Hoseok is definitely not just Yoongi's coe-worker at this point, but saviors come from all sorts of unlikely places)

Eventually Hoseok's sobs quiet and Yoongi sighs, pulling back. He takes one look at hoseok's red nose and pale cheeks and puffs up. "I'm making your hot chocolate and you're going to tell me what's happened."

He gets up like he needs something to do. Like he's tired of taking care of Hoseok. He doesn't take it personally, he's tired of it too.

“My mates they- they kicked me out of our den,” Hoseok confesses. Yoongi's got two mugs in his hands, they thud against the counter when he reaches into one of the cabinets.

It’s warm in here but Hoseok is still thankful for the sweatshirt the beta gave him. Not only for its warmth but for the layer of scent it provides; It’s soaked with the smell of chocolate. So comforting and heavenly that it makes Hoseok a little dizzy when he tucks his nose into it and takes a hefty sniff when Yoongi's got his back turned.

Hoseok was never given the other pack's items, never allowed or encouraged to indulge in their scents. They never asked for his either.

Yoongi hangs both their jackets above the radiator in the back so that they’ll dry faster. He bears an impressive bite mark on his arm, visible because of his short-sleeved shirt. It's bruised just ever so slightly- an alpha bite but not a mating bite because betas don't mate. A mark like that on him is as good a claim as any. Even with the other scents that cling to the sweatshirt.

Hoseok hasn’t known him long, but they’re friends even if they’ve never met up outside of work. You can't not be friends with someone you spend upwards of 30 hours a week with.

Yoongi just hums. "Have you been with them long?"

Hoseok appreciates that Yoongi doesn't use the past tense, his heart too tender around the idea of endings. Some part of him is unconvinced that it really is over. A stubborn heart for a stubborn alpha.

His hair is starting to dry when he nods. "It's been a few years." Hoseok bites his lip, "I could lie and say I didn't see signs but-" his hands end up in his hair, elbows leaning against the creaking yellow table. Tugging a little. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," Yoongi says, hand on the back of his head. warm rough fingers. Touching him ever so briefly as he passes to put the milk back in the mini-fridge. "It's not stupid to want to find more love where you got it."

But in truth, There's not much more than Yoongi can say. Not much more that he knows to say. He'd never met Hoseok's pack. Whereas Namjoon and Jimin and the pups have a general tendency to linger around Yoongi person at all hours and locations. Stopping by to drop off coffee or just to make funny faces at him through the window when they're on their way to work. Yoongi has never met his co-worker's pack and has never seen much evidence at all on him beyond some vague hints of scents.

That alone is enough of a hint; usually, when people have packmates they're soaked in their scents. Visceral claims to keep any wandering eyes wandering still. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wondered why Hoseok didn't wear his packmate's scents.

It’s not like the alpha smells bad at all- a little strong sure, but less genetically dominant alphas tend to smell a little sweeter like omegas.

At least that’s what Namjoon says when he feels like info dumping. Late at night when the pack asleep around them and only Yoongi's stayed up to listen. Because Yoongi likes the sound of Namjoon's voice when he gets into the details. Stroking across Namjoon’s bare chest just to feel the alpha's words rumble against his fingertips. His heartbeat against his ear the backtrack for all of it.

Whoever Yoongi’s pack is; they surely love him a lot. That much has been evident since the second that Hoseok met him. Evident in the packed bento boxes and the bunny-eyed omega that walks with him to work sometimes. Or in the tall omega and alpha pair that Hoseok has seen perusing the shelves when he comes in to relieve Yoongi of his shift.

Hoseok has worked here for 6 months. It’s impossible not to collect these details. The hickeys on his throat that he wears after weekends, how ruffled but generally loved Yoongi looks when he comes back from rut and heat leave.

“Is there a reason why they left?” Yoongi tries to be as undiscerning as possible. Voice gentle and measured. Stirring the hot cocoa and putting it in front of Hoseok.

Hoseok takes a sip and it feels like he's drinking a cup of the beta in front of him. Yoongi melts a little into the chair at the happy noise Hoseok makes.

It's good. Really good actually, Yoongi uses twice as much Swiss mix as the package instructs and a tablespoon of honey to boot. More chocolate can never be a bad thing.

Before Hoseok has a chance to respond, The phone next to the cabinet rings. And Yoongi takes it off the stand and hangs it up again in quick secession so that it doesn’t ring anymore. It has to be important but he ignores it for Hoseok's sake. Yoongi does a lot of ordering for the shop, the rare records that their boss is always trying to source and sell. It's a lot of chasing down leads and curators.

(This is not true. This is a lie that Yoongi and his boss have fed him. This phone is set up for the family's use. Hoseok doesn’t know that most of the calls Yoongi answers are more delicate than just simple stock orders.)

“I just found out that my brother has stolen from me, what should his punishment be beta?”

“How much did he steal?”

“300k”

Yoongi swallows, fighting his narrow margin of benevolence. The drops of mercy that he's allowed to show without suspicion. He tells himself that the other beta would order a far worse. People only call him when they want lighter punishment.

“A finger for every 100 then.”

The people who call ask him all manner of things. Things like “I think my child might be planning on going to the police, what should I do before anyone finds out about it?” He is both a secret keeper and a jury.

“Send them away. Out of sight and out of mind of anything that they might be able to share. I hear the military academies are lovely this year. So much snow. Yes, they take omega recruits.”

“My firstborn child presented as an omega instead of an alpha. They're my firstborn and heir, how should I proceed?”

“I can ask around for an advantageous match but I’m sorry, there is no fixing presentation.”

Hoseok hasn’t seen a phone like that in years. Didn’t even know they made old-fashioned ones like that anymore. Ones with a dial, the blue plastic worn from the number of times Yoongi's had to pick it up. It doesn't stay silent for long, ringing soon after yoongi's hung it up.

“I'm the only- they’re an all-omega group.” As if by the mention of his sub gender Hoseok’s angry burning sugar scent fills the room. In reply, Yoongi’s sweetness rises. Hoseok takes another sip and pretends it's just the hot chocolate warming his cheeks. “I guess they wanted to keep it that way.”

"I've got two omegas and they keep me on my toes, I can't imagine four." That gets a laugh out of Hoseok.

"You've got a bunch of alphas in yours though, right?" A bunch already, I wouldn't be needed. Hoseok has seen them, the tall one with dimples that looks like something out of a soap opera. The scary-looking one with the chubby cheeks who's always holding hands with the pretty academic one who likes the jazz in the corner.

Yoongi nods, "That must be nice," Hoseok's eyelashes are all clumped together from the tears. "Having so many people to take care of you."

Yoongi hums, knuckles brushing Hoseok’s hand on the table. It’s just one tender touch but Hoseok starts to break. To crumple.

Yoongi senses Hoseok breaking, pulling him in close before he has a chance to really fracture (he comes just in time, Yoongi loves Hoseok just in time). Yoongi’s scent alone is enough to soothe him- beyond the way he guides the alpha to rest against his throat. Hoseok fights it only a little, what's a little scenting among friends?

They're not just friends, it's not just scenting.

Hoseok wants to bury his nose in the beta’s throat, but that wouldn’t be appropriate, not with the scent of so many others clinging to him. He still sags into the hug. Turns his face away to avoid the temptation.

“They didn’t even tell me- and now the lease on the apartment is up and I can’t afford it on my own and-“ I’m so scared and I just wish there was someone to take care of me. I wish I was a pup again.

They sit like that at the table and Yoongi just lets him cry, He pulls back after his sobbing has cooled. They hug until they both smell like gooey chocolate chip cookies with too much brown sugar.

Hoseok sniffles, “We have to open up the shop,” Yoongi's arms tighten around Hoseok's shoulders in reply.

“It can wait a few more seconds.” Hoseok wants to say that the owner wouldn’t like that but he doesn’t.

Yoongi sips and hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Hoseok pauses for a second, flushing before he shakes his head. “Okay, it's okay. You can say with me.”

���Are- are you sure they won't mind?” But Yoongi is already typing away on his phone, shooting a quick text to the pack group chat (a chat that Hoseok will be added to in exactly 23 days, but who's counting?)

“Not at all. It’s a bit cramped with all of us but we have a spare bed in the closet room that Tae likes to read on sometimes- Jungkook's boss slept there last night after they came back from drinking and Namjoon was so mad- he won't be mad about you though- it's just that Jungkook- he just really shouldn't be drinking."

"Is he underaged?"

"No, he's just got health issues."

"Oh." Yet another person who gets the love he needs, the care he needs. Hoseok tries and fails miserably not to be jealous over Yoongi's omega whom he's never met.

He won't be jealous for long. Later Jungkook is going to challenge him to an arm wrestle just to prove he doesn't need babying. Beating alphas in feats of strength is his favorite thing. He'll feel Hoseok’s hand in his and get completely distracted. "Wow, you've got like- really pretty hands!" and drag them close to his to compare sizes. He'll be smitten nearly instantly with Jungkook- for what it's worth. The jealousy only lasts for a few hours.

Within a few seconds his phone is ringing off the hook, he shows Hoseok the chorus of, “Yes it’s okay!” and “Poor thing, tell him he can stay as long as he wants.” "Of course hyung!" "Does Hoseok like kimchi-jjigae or should we just order pizza?" “Oh! Can we get some with pineapple?” “Gross Jk.” "Yeah we all know Minnie doesn't like the aftertaste of burnt fruit."

And Hoseok can't help but feel like he doesn’t deserve this kindness and such an effortless acceptance. There is a knock at the front door before he can say anything. A few short taps against the glass. Yoongi tells Hoseok to stay put while he goes to deal with a pushy customer who wants in. Leaving him alone in the backroom with his cooling hot coco and the poster still staring down at him.

(They say two can keep a secret if one of them is dead, but that's not the only way a secret stays buried; the best secrets are the ones you’re not even aware of.

Out of all the people in your pack. Hoseok is the only one in possession of a secret like this. The best kinds of secrets are the ones you don't even know are secrets see- he doesn't even know that this memory is enough to save you. Hoseok is entirely unaware that in his mind lies this memory.

Hoseok was the first person to get on the no-kill list, and it wasn’t because of Yoongi.

All packmates of a Don get put on the list;

no matter if they're active or past.)

Sitting at that yellowing wood table; Hoseok feels more settled now that he knows he has a place to sleep tonight that isn’t this backroom. Pulling the sleeve of Yoongi’s sweatshirt over his palms and sniffing at the collar where it was pushed up against Yoongi’s scent gland.

If he thinks hard, he can pick out a few scents here and there soaking the fabric. (Milky Omega Jin, Honey Sweet Puppy Jungkookie, Cinnamon sweet Alpha Tae and vanil-lalalala Jimin, Coffee Alpha Namjoon and Chocolate Yoongi).

It's so different from his ex-pack's scents. Their sugary sweet omega peppermint and sharp lemony evergreen, winter berry and pine, the cold smart of snow against his nose. His burning caramel scent- so off-putting. The one scent not Christmas-themed. The one that didn’t fit.

By comparison- Yoongi's pack smells like a bakery in summer. Every scent that could be added to a cake maybe (one day, in the kitchen, he’ll eat your tiramisu and realize yes- that’s exactly what it’s missing. Your cakey scent makes them all complete, the warmth of baking things).

He has somewhere to go now. Somewhere to be. Someone to trust. He trusts Yoongi- even if they’ve only known each other for a handful of short months.

And Yoongi’s pack can’t be worse than his last one.

As if in reply to Yoongi’s phone (buzzing with more texts that he doesn't check because Hoseok is nothing if not respectful of people's digital privacy. If he checked he would see "Is that the hot coworker you're always talking about? The one who always looks a little sad?")

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with the notification he's been waiting for.

Pack Omega 🌙 calling.

Pick up? Decline?

Hoseok hasn't yet gotten around to changing her contact information. He scrambles at it, spilling the hot cocoa across the table as he rushes to pick it up. Scrambling to get to it before it goes to voice mail. Blood pounding in his ears.

Hoseok’s voice is broken as he says his pack omega’s name, his old pack omega’s name.

“Byulyi- Moonbyul please-”

Moonbyul is cold on the other side of the phone. Maybe she’d have liked him more, and wouldn’t have given up on him if he didn't beg. But Hoseok has never been above begging. Not for love. Not for the thing he wants and needs the most. Hoseok needs love more than air and as Yoongi said- it's easiest to go looking for love where you once got it.

Even when you know it could hurt you.

Her voice is flat and unaffected. “I just wanted to make sure you found a place to stay tonight. Are you still going to be around to give the landlord the keys?”

Hoseok finds himself nodding even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yes- I can do that, I can do anything you want. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Moonbyul please-”

“Goodbye Hoseok.” She says, hanging up after a second. Hoseok looks at the phone. Pushing the button to redial. It doesn't go. She’s already blocked him.

It will be a long time until Hoseok hears from his last pack again, a long long time until he says their names again. He will remember the way he’d begged, the way her name had sounded smack dab in the middle of it. And hate hate Hate how it makes him feel. He won't ever say their names, regret and self-disgust getting in the way.

It's a little funny, thinking of how different things might have gotten if he'd just told yoongi their names. If he hadn't let his alpha pride get in the way. A few days from now they'll talk about it together. "I don't like the way saying their names makes me feel- it feels- I hate how much I want to say it- to see them again- saying their names just reminds me of the power they had over me."

Never again, will Jung Hoseok beg for someone to give him the bare minimum. This is his lowest point. The moment where it shifts- for good.

His head is in his hands when Yoongi comes back into the room. Still sniffling, crying yet again. Yoongi sets a palm in his hair, ruffling it. Eyeing the spilled hot cocoa with a raised eyebrow.

“If you wanted coffee you could have just said so-“ he makes an attempt at levity and is rewarded with Hoseok’s small snort. Wiping his wet cheeks. Neither of them is aware of the secret. Neither of them is aware and so much worse off for it."

Hoseok grins, “Are you buying hyung?”

~-~

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Notes:

in the story there has always been this question- mainly raised by jimin during his secret chapters- if the m/c is actually in love with them or if she's just manipulating them- at the beginning of this chapter- we actually see jimin finally dispel the last bit of him that thinks even a little bit that this is the case. once he sees how much she put her body on the line- that question isn't even in the back of his mind- even a little. i ended up re-editing this part alot because of it.

every time i write something from jimin's pov i'm always like "why is everything so meandering? why are things disjointed?" and then i remember that's literally jimin's character- that he is in a lot of ways an unreliable narrator.

(TW) i have this idea in my head that namjoon DOES NOT become a good person in the event that all of them die like- a whole separate idea of him becoming a doctor for the family through yoongi's connections with the soul purpose of one day killing moonbyul and her entire pack…including their pups on accident which ends up destroying the last bit of namjoon's innocence as a person…and he ends up becoming one of the families assassins alongside jimin as a result, in this event jungkook does not stay with them and instead moves on and yoongi stays and tries to get them to stop only to ask them to kill him as their last kill because he's unable to cope with the loss of jin, hobi, the m/c and tae. BUT ANYWAY I DIGRESS THAT IS NOT THIS STORY.

i think in this story there is this really interesting dynamic of femininity and death and morality- that being said red nail polish is definitely a metaphor for whose comfortable killing and who isn't. i like the contrast between tae who will never wear red nails again- vs the moon pack who all are not allowed out of the nest if their nailpolish isn't perfect like- thats another layer of the fucked up shit.

are you suprised that the m/c is going to leave? Did you see it coming from a mile away? i mean...it is in the title of the series 😈

….the parallel between hobi losing his voice and the m/c not having a voice at the beginning of the series- you can project whatever meaning you want onto that <3

also on that subject the line "Jin’s hands. Your face. Tae’s head. Hoseok’s throat. Each of you has lost the thing most necessary to your survival." it's worth mentioning that thats not what i think is the most necessary thing to their survival but it is their own interpretation of what keeps them alive. like i for one actually think that the m/c is a lot more pragmatic than anyone gives her credit for but i digress. i could go on about all of their strenghts.

what did you guys think about hobi's secret reveal???? a fair amount of people have guessed it and i think when someone got it at the beginning of the series i lied and said it wasn't- i'm allowed to be an unreliable narrator too!!! kudos to everyone who got it! i feel like it could have been revealed better and originally the big one off was slated for next chapter but i decided to shift it to this one (mostly because i think the next chapter is about to get up there in terms of word count tbh 😭) but T-T its done now! please give me praise because i'm baby and this week has honestly been really hard

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[bippot]

Pretty please write a Mike Schmidt for me, my sweet dear friend that has made it very clear to me that she's back in her Josh Hutcherson phase? I know that you want to! I'll love you more than I already do ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

I love the Josh Hutcherson renaissance! I've been seeing more Future Man love and content out there and that's great! It's one of my favourite shows. And there something about the FNAF movie that just has crack in it or something cause I've watched it 3 times in the past week.

Summary: Mike and Abby move into a new apartment with a new neighbour, but Mike's old mundane responsibilities still persist. That's okay, his neighbour and her dog are prepared to entertain Abby for as long as he needs.

Additional Tags: Moving, Babysitting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Caretaking, Minor Spoilers, Mike Schmidt Needs a Hug (Five Nights at Freddy's)

Full Masterlist - here

The Schmidt siblings returned to their home after the events at pizzeria and Mike immediately knew that they had to move. The sight of his aunt's dead body on the floor was something that would stick in his brain for a hot minute, and truthfully, he'd seen far too many corpses in the span of 24 hrs than he ever thought was possible.

Vanessa's stabbing and Aunt Jane's murder was reported to the police by the Schmidt's as being done by the same killer - because it kinda was, but also not, but it was thanks to his murderous influence so yeah - although the killer in question hadn't been found when the cops did a sweep of the pizzeria.

So, Mike found a small apartment not that far from Abby's school and they began the process of settling in there. He assumed they'd live in their childhood home until Abby was grown up and wanted to go away to college or get a place of her own, but that wasn't the case.

This new home was smaller and cheaper than the old Schmidt residence, plus it didn't come with a lifetime of memories attached to it. It was an improvement, Mike had to keep reminding himself of that fact as he hauled what few belongings he had left into the back of his car.

All the stuff that wouldn't fit had been sold off and Mike was sad to see a lot of his parents stuff go but it helped him acquire some well needed pocket cash for gas or whatever school supplies Abby needed. Whatever was left was transferred into room 34 of the Greystone apartments.

It was a long process, mostly because Abby was at school and the only other person who'd Mike would ask to help was still recovering. That meant that he had to lift every single box up three flights of stairs since the elevator was currently broken. Or, at least that was what he thought.

After making three trips, door 32 opened and a sweet voice asked, "Would you like some help?" Mike nearly dropped the two boxes he'd stacked precariously in his arms as he spun around to put a face to the voice.

Just his luck! His neighbour was a total babe. To anyone else that would've been excellent news, but to Mike, this ensured that he'd be nervous as hell when entering and exiting his own apartment because his mind would have to be alert in case she wanted to talk to him and get a response that was more than incoherent mumbling.

Look, he wasn't a socially awkward guy. Socially avoidant was the term he preferred. He could hold a conversation with a person, with a woman. With a woman he found attractive on the other hand? Well, he hadn't done that in a while. He was more than a little rusty.

Thankfully, this neighbour didn't seem to notice how weirdly out of his depth he felt. Instead, she nodded towards the boxes he'd been piling outside his front door. "Need a hand with those?" she inquired, voice smooth and melodious like an angel.

He swallowed hard, feeling stupid, but somehow answered anyway, "If you don't mind, yeah, please." It came out sounding like he was choking on his words which, given that he had formed coherent sentences in her presence, was the best he was going to get for now.

"Do you have a U-haul truck full?"

"I, uh, folded the seats down of my Accord and shoved, yeah, shoved e-everything in the back."

"Oh. Smart." She closed her door and gestured for them to start walking towards the exit, and he was happy to oblige. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Mike."

Mike wanted to say something, to strike up some really interesting conversation that would have her hanging onto each word he said with rapt attention - but his words died before he could utter them. There were just... no words, no topic of choice, nothing. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. If he tried to speak, he might choke and die.

That would be bad. Really bad.

Y/N didn't seem to mind. She could talk for the both of them, it seemed. Honestly, he wasn't sure what she was saying. He wasn't focused on that. No, he was focused on everything else about her, every movement, every breath, the way her hair fell in her eyes, the way her lips curled into a half smile whenever she made a joke and how it curled even farther up when she laughed. He couldn't stop staring.

Sometimes, he felt like he was a bit of a weirdo. It was a conscious effort of his to notice as much as he possibly could about someone he's meeting for the first time and doesn't understand yet, but there were times - far too many times - when he zeroed in on details that didn't need that much scrutiny. Like, why did she have a very faint scar on the inside of her right bicep? Or pen on her left wrist? Or why was she looking at him like she had asked a question and was waiting for him to respond?

Oh. Because she had asked a question and was waiting for him to respond.

That'll do it.

"Sorry, I totally spaced out. What, umm... what did you say?"

"I asked which car was yours."

It was obvious. It was the Honda they were standing in front of that was filled with cardboard boxes.

"Yeah, this is it. Here we are. This is my car."

"You don't say."

Before Mike could stop himself, he rolled his eyes. It was a good natured, amused roll, but a roll nonetheless. He smiled to himself as he opened the boot and began taking out all the boxes he deemed worthy of carrying to his apartment on this trip.

Together, they got everything from the car into his apartment without too much fuss. It took a while so there had been a few awkward silences, but Mike was slowly progressing in his effort to talk to her without tripping over his feet and ending up flat on his ass. He managed to get his words out without making a complete idiot of himself. It was slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

By the time his belongings were safely in his apartment, it was time to pick Abby up from school.

"To say, to say thank you, would you - you can say no, obviously, - Abby and I are going to order pizza for dinner as a celebration of this place. And because we don't have any groceries yet. If you'd like to, yeah, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wanted to join us?" he blurted out in one large breath as they stood in their opposite doorways, half in half out of their living rooms.

"I'd love to, but I'm busy...doing things. Doing stuff."

"Oh. Yeah, of course. Maybe, yeah, maybe another time, then?"

"Uh... Sure, sounds good."

They both looked awkward, and neither of them moved for a beat too long until Mike realised that if he didn't leave soon, he was going to be late for pick up. He gave her one final shy wave before rushing to the stairwell.

Abby wasn't told about the nice, pretty girl from next door that he'd been an idiot in front of so when they'd returned from grocery shopping the very next day and Mike was talking to some lady in the newly fixed elevator, she was a little confused. Because she knew her brother. Her brother didn't get people he'd never spoken to before to smile at him like that.

"Hi Mike," Y/N greeted softly as they approached, giving the dachshund at her feet a gentle tug so he'd give the siblings more space to stand. "I'm guessing you went grocery shopping."

Correct. The hand that wasn't holding Abby's had three heavy grocery bags in it.

"Y/N, hey!" Her brother grinned in a way Abby had never seen before. His cheeks flushed slightly and he cleared his throat, his grin turning shy. "This is Abby. This is my sister Abby."

Something akin to relief flashed across Y/N's face. "Nice to meet you, Abby. Mike mentioned you yesterday, but he didn't tell me how cool your shoes are." She crouched down to pretend to get a better look. "Cupcakes are cool."

Abby giggled at the compliment and pushed her nose into Mike's side. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of her brother's bicep and at the fabric there so he'd lean down for her to whisper in his ear. "She asks, can she pet your dog please? Pretty please?" he repeated. "Why she couldn't ask you, I don't know."

"Tater here would love to be petted."

On cue, Tater barked excitedly and wagged his tail at the prospect of being fussed over. Abby cooed loudly and reached out her hand to pet his head. As soon as her fingertips touched his fur, he leaned into her touch and licked her hand enthusiastically. Abby shrieked in delight at the attention, her small hands flailing wildly for a second before reaching out to stroke Tater's ears. Mike could see the joy in the kid's bright eyes and it sent warmth pooling in his chest.

With Abby occupied, Y/N felt the need to clarify, "I was under the impression yesterday that Abby was your girlfriend."

"Ew, gross."

"That's why I was weird about the pizza. I didn't want to third wheel, you know? Sorry I jumped to a completely wrong conclusion."

At that, the corners of Mike's lips twisted upwards. His shoulders relaxed a fraction as he breathed a quiet sigh. Thank God he didn't weird her out with his odd behaviour.

"No, no, I get it. I'm a guy and I mentioned a girl. It...it makes, well, it makes sense to jump to conclusions, actually." A spark of boldness appeared all of a sudden and forced him to inquire, "Would you have stayed if I had made it very clear that Abby is ten years old and my sister?"

"I would've." Y/N replied instantly. Not missing a beat, she added, "I love free pizza," with a smirk.

Ding. They reached their floor and went their separate ways for now. Abby had to be told quite a few times to stop stroking Tater and come inside, but she was reluctant to. That dog had charmed her to the core, it seemed. Eventually, Abby reluctantly complied and followed her older brother into their apartment.

No more than ten minutes later, Y/N heard someone knocking on her door and opened it to find little Abby on the other side all by herself. "Hey Abby, you okay?" Y/N asked with a warm smile.

"Can I play with Tater some more please?" The little girl put on the most cutesy, pleading smile she could muster and batted her eyelashes in order to make it all the more convincing.

"Did you ask your brother?"

"He's in the shower."

So that's a no. Y/N pursed her lips as she thought of a response. Obviously, Mike would freak out if the child in his care was at a stranger's place without his permission. She had no idea about Abby's temperament either. Would she scream and shout if she wasn't given what she wanted? Would she beg? Or would she just be content and go back to whatever she had been doing in her own home?

"Let me just get a lead." Y/N disappeared from view for a minute and Abby was fully prepared for disappointment so she opened the door to her apartment, just listening for the sound of Y/N's door locking. Yet, she was soon reappearing with the weiner dog on a leash.

The pair sat in their opened doorways and fussed over Tater with enthusiasm only children possessed, ignoring the occasional looks from their neighbours who had to step over the situation to get to their homes. The corridor was filled with girly giggles and the occasional happy yap from the puppy as it happily accepted each scratch and pat Abby gave him.

Mike came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and was fully expecting to walk into his room to get changed directly afterwards. That didn't happen straight away. He noticed the opened door before the chatter and rushed to check that his sister was safe and still in the confines of their new home.

Maybe she was talking to those dead kids again. That was not something he needed right now.

"Abby?" he called out tentatively, but upon hearing no response other than more giggles, Mike stepped closer to the door and was rather confused as to why his sister was sitting in the doorway.

Y/N's eyes widened the moment sexy, dripping wet Mike appeared in view. She gulped nervously and took in his attire for a split second, trying her best not to stare too openly at his body. It was a struggle at best and she had to take a deep breath.

"Look Mike, Tater can do tricks!" Abby cheered happily when she noticed her brother coming closer. "Tater, play dead."

The dog did exactly as the girl said and rolled onto its back, exposing his belly in a way that was just asking for rubs. And Abby was overjoyed to give them to him. Mike couldn't help chuckling at the sight of his sister, who he was pretty sure had instigated all of this, laughing like crazy as she scratched Tater behind the ear, his tongue hanging out of his mouth while he let out pleased barks.

"You're such a good boy," she praised, patting his head gently and causing the dog to roll over again. "Can we get a dog?"

"Well, uh-" He paused, "Can we have this conversation when I have clothes on?" The girl frowned but nodded her head nonetheless. "Great. I will do that then. I'll get some, uh huh, I will stop being so naked now. I promise."

Subtly, Y/N hid her laugh behind her hand as she watched the scene before her unfold. It was adorable watching him struggle to find words.

Sitting together and playing around with Tater in their doorways became a daily occurrence for the girls. Abby would get home from school and count down the minutes till Y/N came back from work, only to turn to look at her brother expectantly. "Can I?" she'd ask every time, and he'd say yes every time. It became a routine between them, one that gave Mike free time to look for a new job.

And eventually, he did find one. It wasn't exactly ideal. The hours were long and overlapped with after school time, but it was in the day, and it ensured that they'd get 20% off their groceries. The supermarket in town was looking for shelf stockers. The pay wasn't spectacular, but it was liveable. There wasn't much customer interaction. His main focus was to refill the shelves and that was it, nothing beyond that.

No animatronics. No ghost kids. No serial murderers - as far as he knew. And definitely no Balloon Boy.

Originally, he wasn't going to take the job. But, he happened to mention it to Y/N one day and she immediately tried to squash his worries. "I can pick Abby up from school on my way home from work and she can hang out here until your shift is over. No biggie," she reasoned, placing her hand reassuringly against his bicep and flashing a smile at him. Mike was hesitant, at first.

On the other hand, Abby was not. She loved being in Y/N's apartment. It looked nicer than their apartment because Y/N had decorations and nicknacks to look at, and a sofa that was far more comfortable than the old, busted one they had, and Tater was there with all his toys and treats. And Y/N had cable too so that meant they could watch Malcolm in the Middle when it was on.

Abby was planning to grab onto this opportunity with both hands as soon as it presented itself.

Y/N arrived at Abby's school and was greeted by the child running towards her excitedly. Her backpack thumped along on her back loudly and her curls jumped as she bounced up and down, clearly very excited to spend her evening with Y/N (primarily Y/N's dog, but hey).

"Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Abs, you ready to go?"

She nodded frantically, a huge grin forming on her cheeks as she handed Y/N a piece of paper. "I drew this for you!" she informed proudly, pointing to a cute little drawing of a very familiar looking puppy curled up in his doggy bed.

Looking at the drawing, Y/N's eyes softened. "Wow! Thank you! It's really, really really good," she praised with genuine happiness as she ruffled the top of Abby's head. "Do you think Tater will like it? Shall we show him?"

That question was all it took to convince the girl to be well behaved and not complain about traffic they had to sit through to get home. She just bobbed her head along to the radio softly, tapping her feet along to the beat on the ground. By the end of the journey, she even began humming to the tunes, making sure to keep her voice quiet enough that she thought Y/N wouldn't be able to hear her singing. Y/N could.

"I missed you!" Abby squealed as soon as she saw the dog lying on his side asleep by the living room couch. She quickly hopped on the floor next to him and started stroking his soft fur. "Tater, wake up so we can play," she whispered, petting him under his chin and hoping he might at least stir awake. After a few more seconds, he finally stirred awake, his little tail swinging from side to side the moment he realised who was stroking him.

Tater attacked Abby with wet, sloppy dog kisses, causing her to giggle uncontrollably at every lick. Y/N stood beside the couch and laughed at the scene before her. The little girl was a picture of pure joy as Tater licked and slobbered all over her face, causing her to fall backwards onto the carpeted floor and cry out in delight.

If anyone deserved to be spoiled rotten, it was Abby. In fact, both of the remaining Schmidts deserved to be fussed over and Y/N was prepared to do just that to them for as long as they allowed her to.

Mike arrived home from his shift at the grocery store tired and sore. Most of his day had been spent lifting boxes from the storage room out onto the floor with only a single person helping him. And it hadn't helped that his coworker was an older lady - she was kind to him but there was no way she was carrying half of this shit - so he literally did all of the heavy lifting. His back ached badly, which didn't help his mood in the slightest.

However, as he entered Y/N's apartment - they no longer knocked and just walked in these days - and was faced the sight of Abby grating cheese at the kitchen counter as Y/N warned, "Careful of your fingies, don't wanna accidentally cut yourself. Take it slow, honey."

A sweet smile stretched across his lips as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards the two women. Neither of them seemed to notice, clearly too engrossed in preparing their dinner to see as he silently leant against the kitchen door frame and watched them carefully.

At some point, Y/N had braided Abby's hair and obviously Abby wanted to return the favour but wasn't all that good at it as the end of Y/N's locks were all bushy and tangled, the ends curling up into knots and sticking out from underneath the bobble. He chuckled to himself quietly, thus gaining the attention of the both of them instantly.

"How long have you been there, creeper?" Abby asked, giving her brother a dirty glare and earning her a chuckle from him once more.

"Long enough," he replied and shrugged his shoulders. "What are we cooking?"

"Y/N's teaching me how to make Cowboy Pie."

His eyebrow raised in amusement. "Is that so?" he hummed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you never want to help when I cook, huh?"

"You don't cook. You just heat stuff up."

"Oh yeah? I see how it is," he snickered, but was quick to ask, "Well, you two need any help?" and turned his gaze to Y/N, who simply shook her head.

"Go relax. We've got this," she said dismissively, waving him away with the wooden spoon still in her hand. "Don't we, Abs?" She poked the nodding girl in the cheek affectionately. "See? Everything is alright. Go sit with Tater."

She gave him a gentle push with her hip, prompting him to move into the living room without another word. He sat on the couch and placed his bag by his feet, letting out a huge sigh as his ass hit the soft cushion. He rested his elbows on his knees, placed his chin on his palms and leaned forward so he could see into the kitchen.

Watching the duo cook together was mesmerising. A warm feeling filled his chest and spread throughout his entire body - like fire but not uncomfortable, more comforting, like home. Y/N had such a loving smile on her face while Abby looked content and beamed whenever she was allowed to stir the pot or throw in the ingredients. They were like peas in a pod, Y/N taking care of everything and doing all the things that included knives while Abby tried to follow instructions.

He was completely lost in the scene in front of him until something small and furry pressed itself against his leg. He glanced down and smiled upon seeing the dachshund's black nose pressing up against the side of his pant legs. The dog wagged his tail and then looked up at him, staring with his wide brown eyes, almost pleading for attention. Mike couldn't say no to Tater so he bent down to scratch gently behind his floppy ears.

"Hiya, boy," he murmured happily. "Us guys have got to stick together, right? Can't let the girls boss us around now, can we?" Tater barked and wagged his whole body as if to agree with him.

That meal had to be the best he'd ever had, or at least remembered having. It was mainly potato, sausage, beans and cheese, but somehow, they'd managed to make it taste extra good. Tater was given a sausage or two, so he was beyond happy and fell asleep directly after dinner.

Abby was in a similar state. She'd cleaned her plate then asked for more, which was fine because there was leftovers for her to get through. Her belly was full and she was exhausted, so that meant she could probably sleep through the night. She even fell asleep against Mike's shoulder half way through the episode of Family Feud.

Honestly, Mike was close to dozing off too but kept himself awake long enough to pick his sister up and carry her to her bed. "She's out like a light, how did you do that?" he asked Y/N curiously, his arms wrapped around Abby so she didn't fall out of his grip and slump to the corridor floor.

"It was all Tater," she joked, gesturing towards the passed out puppy lying on his back between the gap between the two couch cushions. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah please."

"Goodnight Mike," Y/N smiled, moving in to peck his cheek before disappearing behind her door.

Once she was gone, Mike released a large exhale through his nose, his eyes now wide open and fixed on the crooked 32 number plate on the wood. He wiggled one hand free and straightened it up, then brought his fingertip to where her lips had just been on his skin and smiled faintly.

"Goodnight Y/N."

Every day was similar to that one - obviously there were slight variations where Abby didn't eat as much, or Tater decided to be yappy that day, or Y/N didn't feel like cooking and ordered something in, or Mike was grumpier - but they were all better than before. Their lives weren't exactly perfect, but this was close enough, really.

For now.

"My boss offered me some more hours, just in time for the holidays - and it's a big upgrade in pay -"

"That sounds great, Mike. What's the 'but'?" Y/N frowned as she placed some freshly cooked lasagna on a plate and placed it in front of Mike.

"It's night shifts and a weekend or two." He shoved a fork full into his mouth, chewing it slowly before swallowing and continuing, "You've done so much already and asking you to look after Abby for the entire night... it's too much, you shouldn't have to-"

"Mike-"

"I'll pay you. I promise. Abby told me she wants that Robotic Puppy thing for her present and that's $40 and I said I get that for her to make up for the fact I won't let her get a real dog. Factor in groceries. And bills. And..." he began mumbling to himself, working out all the math in his head. He'd never been all that good at maths.

There was a beat of silence before Y/N let out a small chuckle. "Mike," she sighed again, placing her hand gently on top of his, "It's okay. Really, it is. This isn't a big deal at all. I love spending time with Abby and she loves sleepovers."

Recently, there had been a development in Abby's social life; one that involved more hanging out with her friend outside of school. The new friend had been a late addition to the class and was rather shy, so when she spent her time reading right next to where Abby was drawing, they began their quiet friendship.

"And the weekends?"

"Well, I get Sundays off and Saturdays she can come to work with me. There's always a bunch of kids her age in the library on Saturdays. Yeah, it's all the nerd kids," Y/N explained with a laugh whilst pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to Mike. "Relax, Mikey."

With a final deep breath, he nodded his head, his expression changing as he took a sip of wine. "Okay," he breathed and smiled softly. "Thank you. For today. And last week too. And all the times before that."

"Yeah, no problem," she shrugged casually and sipped from her glass as well, trying her hardest to keep the flush off her face.

Working nights again was not something Mike thought he'd ever do again, yet this time, the scenery was far less alive. No, instead it was just dark and cold. And this time, he actually had job responsibilities and couldn't fall asleep at a desk. He had to lift and sort and clean and sweep and tidy and organise and price check and restock. It was boring, mind numbing and absolutely exhausting and he just wanted to go home to sleep and forget about it all.

What was waiting for him when he got home was something else. Something different, something better.

After putting Abby to bed, Y/N had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, a blanket draped around her and a book about to slip from her fingers. Mike knelt beside the couch and grabbed the book and placed it on the coffee table before giving in to the temptation to brush her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips linger on her cheek.

"Mike?" Y/N murmured, her eyelids fluttering slightly as her eyes met his own, causing him to bolt away and stand up straight.

"Oh! Sorry," he stuttered, clearing his throat. and scratching at his cheek with a little too much force. "Um, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Y/N yawned and stretched, leaning on her elbow and resting her head on her hands as she regarded him. "How was work? Anything interesting happen?" she asked quietly, her voice still sounding sleepy. She ran a hand through her messy hair, messing it up even more and looking adorably groggy, and he had to admit it was kinda hot.

"Not really. The same as usual just at night, I guess."

A hum left her throat and she closed her eyes briefly. When they opened again, they were glimmering with sleepy tears, making them sparkle beautifully. His heart swelled with so much emotion, he couldn't help but stare at them and sigh.

"Abby is -" She yawned again. "Abby's is in my bed. You can leave her there if you want," she murmured, her voice fading to barely a whisper. "You tired? You look it."

"Yeah."

Thanks to the darkness of the room and the bagginess of his clothes, he had the same general shape of a teddy bear - all soft and curly with big brown eyes. That paired with Y/N sleepy kind of not fully woken up state meant that she whispered, "Come here," and held her arms open invitingly. He hesitated for a moment, before finally deciding that he couldn't turn this opportunity down. He crawled onto the sofa and lay down next to her, putting as much distance in between their bodies as he could, which wasn't a lot.

It would've felt awkward to anyone else, but for the two of them it was natural; comfortable and intimate. Y/N snuggled up next to Mike until her head rested comfortably on his chest and he put an arm around her, pulling her as close as possible.

"Y/N?"

"Hmmm...?" she hummed sleepily, her hands coming up under her chin on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. He looked at her, mesmerised by the gentle glow of the light emanating from the tv screen behind him, before gazing down at her lips, feeling a blush creep up on his neck. He licked his lips nervously and swallowed thickly before he could think twice about what he was going to say next.

"I like you," he admitted bluntly without any preamble, and his eyes widened slightly as soon as the words were uttered. They flew past the tip of his tongue, begging to leave him, and the truth was out there now. In the open and therefore there was no backing out. "Jesus, that made me sound like a middle schooler."

Y/N blinked several times, processing what he said, before smiling warmly and reaching up and stroking his cheek gently. Mike's eyes fluttered shut at her touch, and he leaned into her hand with a contented sigh. "I like you too," she whispered, her smile growing wider and her thumb brushing along his cheek bone tenderly.

"So, um, should we maybe..." he started awkwardly, unsure where he wanted things to go from there.

"In the morning?"

"Good idea."

They fell asleep almost immediately after saying goodnight, holding each other tightly as they slept in a dreamless slumber. A slumber that was cut short when Abby woke them up with a very loud gasp, waking the both of them up. They rubbed at their eyes with the heels of their palms and looked over at Abby who stared at them with wide eyes.

Cheeks flushing red under his sister's scrutiny, Mike burrowed his face in Y/N's shoulder, who just chuckled and curled her hand into his curly hair.

"What's the time, Abs?"

"7:23" came the reply as she pointed at the digital clock on the wall above the TV.

Mike let out a groan of annoyance and pushed his nose further into Y/N. It seemed that once he got some affection, he didn't want to let go. She didn't seem to mind though and laughed softly, shifting a bit to accommodate him.

Or was it to accommodate Abby?

Because Y/N offered, "Well, it's Sunday and there's enough space for three so wanna join, honey?" and Abby was jumping at the chance, clambering on the couch until the girl was lying entirely on top of her brother like a weighted blanket that got slightly heavier as Tater joined in too and curled up between his knees. He grunted at the unexpected cuddle pile but got used to it quickly.

"What do you want for breakfast when we get up?" Y/N asked Abby, stroking her hair away from her face as the child yawned.

"Pop Tarts?"

"I second that," Mike mumbled.

"Pop Tarts it is then," Y/N agreed with a small nod

Somehow, life had got even better.

[corruflood]

Choking (On Grave Dirt)

Revived GN!Darling x Necromancer M!Yandere x Knight M!Yandere x King M!Yandere

Summary: You were murdered years ago, soul never put to rest waiting for retribution that will never come. That is until a necromancer finds your body, chaos, love and obsession ensues.

TW / CW: Gore, Death, Blood

If you want to use the idea -> TERMS OF USE [basically tag me so I can read it and if your okay with it I'd love to add the link to this post! Also have fun and change whatever you want to]

Up to chap 5 complete will be finishing soon.

------ Plot outline ------

ೃ⁀➷ 01 : REVIVED

Dead, buried and suffering. Soul slamming into the dirt above over and over again clawing and begging for some sort or reprieve.

You died unjustly and painful, phantom pains of death ricochet against the confines of your nearly faded spirit.

Magic courses through the ground similar to lightning in water, scouring the earth in search of something, panic and delirium threatening to fracture your remains you desperately cling onto a stray bolt tugging it towards you.

Buck was anti - social. He didn't like talking to anyone and became uncomfortable around any living sentient thing.

It's why he chose to become a necromancer most undead were barely coherent and just did what he said. It was perfect well it was until he needed help with something that needs more of a delicate touch.

Honestly it was just his luck that the new tome he found specified a sentient, coherent person with the ability to memorize and adjust according to the spell itself. He hated chaos magic almost as much as he loved it.

It's why he's trudging through the forest resource gathering so he didn't have to go out and find a poor sod with okay ish understanding of magic to drag back to his home and force to do a powerful and deadly ritual because that would be so fucking easy.

What he didn't expect to find was something latching onto his magic like a lifeline, following the pull lead him to a patch of vibrant flowers and moss, the feeling of dread curls around Bucks spine a tell tale of a body near by. A body underneath his feet.

Well if he had to choose between a desperate soon-to-be revenant and talking to a person well he might of been too eager in the resurrection process.

You didn't need to breathe anymore, being dead does that to a person if only your body understood that, instead it insists on heaving on dirt and worms.

There's a man passed out beside you, all choppy hair and the beginning of scruff on his chin, he's passed out, brows furrowed. You can smell the magic on him were it pools in his skin and how it stretches still beyond him. Apart of you wanders if that's normal to just know when magic is afoot. The other apart of you groans at what must be done. He saved you after all.

ೃ⁀➷ 02 : WHAT ARE YOU REALLY?

Darling drags Buck back to his cove in the mountain, they found it by following the magic back. Darling can't remember anything except that they died and it hurt beyond death.

Darling takes care of Buck for days and cleans the place up a bit, they go hunting at some point and find themselves dangerously well acquainted with a bow and arrow, the weight of a dagger firm on their side a comfort with a fuzzy memory.

Buck wakes up in a panic and tries to attack Darling who finds themselves dodging before their brain catches up with it. Darling explains that they are the one that took care of him after he was passed out for atleast 7 moons.

Buck is shocked downright flabbergasted at the situation. A dead with no memories and a level of humanity he's never seen before and him passing out and slipping into an impromptu coma for over a week as his body tried to fix himself.

Expirements and research is in order immediately, Buck throws out boundaries and anxiousness. Darling is a shiny new thing and he needs to understand it as soon as possible.

Another week goes by Buck wrotes down everything, they try a few things out making Darling do exercises, math, poetry eventually they try magic and it's stunning.

It flows from his darlings arms in crashing waves breaking on shorelines. He doesn't even realize when he started considering Darling his.

Another week passes Darling remembers faint things, while eating they get a memory of a dining hall, they hear faint laughter some times. There's a whole life just underneath the surface and Darling wants to know who they were.

Buck isn't as happy about it. He starts keeping Darling closer and closer, a hand always resting on them, grabbing them to cuddle, relishing in the fact that no one is around and it's just them away from everyone. This is good this is great! There's a knock on the door. This is bad.

ೃ⁀➷ 03 : COMFORT ZONES.

Regretfully opening the door stands none other than Kures one of the knights of King Likin both of which unfortunalty call Buck a friend. He doesn't mind them. He likes them far more than any other people but this is his place and his darling is right there and this is really annoying until the glass shatters.

"Y/n?" The knight speaks almost afraid they would dissappear if he blinks.

"Kures?" Darling asks confused, pain tinged their face as much as shock does, despite knowing the knights name it seems they can't remember anything else.

This is troubling.

Kures rushes inside and everything is explained, MC can't remember shit, Kures came because Buck missed a meet up explains MC went missing years ago, MC still looked pretty much exactly the same as the last day he saw them.

Kures talks about life before. Buck continues to get more upset by the end of the convo Buck is practically wrapped around MC extremely displeased.

They talk and chat for a long time and settle on a plan to make there way into the castle so more people can figure out what is happening. Buck attempts to deny everything but Darling is barreling through. They want to know what happened.

Buck and MC pack and MC promises it will be okay and makes sure to stay close to Buck.

They travel a week together comradery pulling them all into a tight knit group and as they make it into a town MC finds out first hand how much Buck doesn't play nice with anyone else.

ೃ⁀➷ 04 : A LITTLE MURDER BETWEEN FRIENDS

One of the staff at the inn tries to flirt with you laughing it off and head to bed, I'm the morning you here some of the other staff complain about him bunking work again.

A stall owner berates you after you bump into there crate, later in the day Kures comes to you with a couple of (insert thing that was in the crate)

Both Buck and Kures barely leave your side at least one of them is on you at all times, it's usually you and Buck in the inn room as you wait til dusk to head onwards, being subtle is key here.

You brush off the clinginess as nerves of being around people, Buck is severely anti social and Kures is a knight who is tasked in getting people back alive it's not his fault for being overly cautious.

Except the edge never dwindles ever when you all are way out of town with no one able to touch you, they stick as close as they physically can, Buck always has a hand on you, Kures is within touching distance more likely to follow you around than direct contact.

It leaves you on edge but it's fine, there nice and Buck helped you. He saved you and Kures someone you regretfully don't remember but most definelty know is risking everything to help you. You can only imagine how much it would tank reputation if they knew to be helping a random undead because that's what you were now and it's painfully obvious in the right light. So you stay close for them.

As soon as you cross the cities borders, memories twirl and spin out of reach. Your from here, not born but defiantly spent most of your life. Your feet unconciously carry you to a small bakery. The owner looks like theve seen a ghost before giving you the biggest hug.

It's the same story. Fine one day. Missing the next.

Mc thanks them and leaves with a fresh loaf of bread.

ೃ⁀➷ 05 : A KING AND HIS MEN

pending...

[katrinafaire]

In 30+ years of writing, you do improve; here's some things I've learned.

When I first started actively writing stories -- we're talking single digits here, under the age of ten, as some of you may relate -- my initial goal was spelling things right and having a (mostly) cohesive, if simple, storyline.

Then, in some order I'm not sure of, were things like description, consistent character voices, character development, character driven plots, subplots, worldbuilding -- the list goes on, I'm sure we've all worked on some if not all of these things. (The beauty of writeblr, we're all here together despite different levels of experience.)

I feel like I've always written, but I didn't really sit down to write novella and eventually novel sized works until my late teens-early twenties. I had a lot going for me, because I'd been writing consistently over the years prior. But I had some... quirks. Here's a non-exhaustive list you may find of use:

I struggled with maintaining a clear POV -- who's perspective we were in, how to coherently jump between characters, how to balance that to the best benefit of the narrative... yeah, that was an issue. And I still have a bit of trouble with that now and then, though I'm worlds better.

Also, I hugely overused epithets, those descriptive terms instead of pronouns or names. (The tall man, the blonde woman, the sullen teenager -- you get the idea.) You see, I didn't understand how they worked. I used them mostly because I had a lot of big casts and was not fond of he said-he said-he said with three different he's and I felt like I was over using names.

As I began to hone my craft, it became clearer that these had their place -- but only where they were relevant, not as a replacement. For example, if the POV character doesn't know the name of another character, they will use epithets because that's all they have. Or you can use it to emphasize something:

"There's no way we can deliver the message in time!" Aaron said. The fastest man in the world just smiled; his time had come. "Watch me."

Presumably you already know the speedster's name, but even if you don't, the epithet delivers important information to the narrative; that is the perfect (though not only) time to use one.

There was a huge movement when I was just starting more serious writing and you have likely still seen these posts circulating: said is dead. And I took it as gospel. Now, first let me say I am still a huge fan of dialogue tags. Big fan of things like "whispered" and "sneered" -- things you can't easily convey simply with punctuation.

However.

Using them every line, or every other line, or every third line -- in short, frequently -- isn't good. And it's not because these things are inherently bad. The reason, as far as I'm concerned, is twofold. One, when you deviate from "said" then your audience immediately is drawn to this new dialogue tag, taking it as Important Information. Which is good! We want that when we put those in. But if you have too many in too short of time the brain just quits processing them as important, or worse, it keeps taking them out of the story.

Point two is directly related in that in that overuse of dialogue tags not only clogs up your dialogue, it also makes the dialogue tags less valuable. Imagine this if you will, that every dialogue tag is a colored font and "said" is just black. If you constantly use dialogue tags, do any of them stand out? Even if someone screamed in bright red, does it matter if you just had something in bright orange a line ago? Not really.

But if all you have is black on black on black and suddenly there's a bright red streak on the paper, it jars you! It makes you pay attention! And that's what you really want when you use dialogue tags, isn't it? So that's why I've tried to cut down on mine, and have beta readers specifically work with me on it.

There's also several punctuation and formatting things I've struggled with. Overusing italics, misplacing en dashes — and em dashes (look I even copy pasted the right ones instead of typing two en dashes --) — as well as a severe abuse of... ellipsis. I'm working on them to this day. I'm a dramatic wordsmith. Sometimes it helps for me to write it however I want the first time and then make a new draft, stripping the formatting and seeing with fresh eyes where it's needed.

There's other things, too (I have never done enough description, I'm working on it now) but this post is getting long and I've shared some main points that I feel others can benefit from my mistakes. Feel free to reblog with your own mistakes you've learned from or are working on!

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.9 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 8. Chapter 10.

Surgery

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, Death mention, Running from authorities, Mentions of dead characters, Inhibitor chip arc, Nala Se being cruel, Shaak Ti trying her best, lying, surgery, Fives stuns reader but its consensual, AZ-3 being a cutie, Kissing

Tag List (Thank you guys!): @notgonnaedit @spicydonut25 @bimboshaggy @amazonian-bae @tentakelspektakel

Fives shifted, groaning on the surgical bed. 

You rushed to his side, looking over your lover as he woke. He took a deep breath and moved to sit up. However, you put your hands on his chest and kept him down, “Easy, take it slow.” you murmured softly, “Take a second to orient yourself.” 

The ARC trooper nodded, blinking open his eyes. However, once it registered that you were next to him, he sat up quickly, “Mesh’la!” Without another second to waste, his arms were around you tightly. 

“Hi, love.” you responded, returning his hug. You wanted to stay like this forever. Wrapped up in each other's warm embrace.

Sadly, however, Fives let you go. He raised a hand to feel the fresh scar from the surgery, “Was…was it there?”

You nodded, and AZ-3 hovered over to raise the tumor encased in bio-glass. Once you had it in your hands, you explained everything you knew to Fives, “Yours is identical in structure and location in the brain.” You said, “But��something went wrong with Tup’s. A genetic mutation, I think.”

Your lover nodded, following along. He shifted, getting to his feet with your help, “So that means his breakdown is…isolated?”

“I’m…not sure.” you admitted. You were about to say something else, but AZ-3 interrupted you. 

“Now that we have removed your chip, we do not know what will happen to you.” the surgical droid stated. 

“So then I could snap too?” Fives jerked his head up to look at the droid.

“It is a possibility.” 

You frowned, “We don’t know that.”

The ARC trooper beside you didn’t look convinced, “But when we removed the chip from Tup, he…”

Tup’s death still hurt

“I am afraid you may die as well.” Was AZ-3’s blunt response. 

That's when you chimed in again, “It’s unlucky,” your hand went to Fives, “But we can never know. So far you're stable and coherent. All good signs.” 

Your lover rubbed his face in his hands, getting himself together, “I need to know if more clones than just Tup and I have these and when we were implanted with them.” His tone was resolute and determined. 

AZ-3 chimed in, “My analysis suggests implantation took place at the earliest stage of development, most likely when you and Tup were only embryos.” the little droid hovered up and down as he explained.

“Then we have to start there.” Fives nodded, but before he could leave the surgical room, you squeezed his hand. 

“There’s one more thing. Shaak Ti knows that we’re investigating.” you informed him, “She wanted you to know not to panic if you see her, or if she finds us. She’s on our side.” 

He nodded, giving a relieved smile, “Good. Still, we should be careful. We don’t know who is on Nala Se’s side here.” 

With a peck on his lips and a nod, you exited the room first. Fives followed you, helmet on and rifle in hand. Behind the both of you, was AZ-3. The ever loyal droid apparently wanted to see this to the end. 

You knew where the embryos were located. They were growing in the Development Wing of Tipoca City. 

Getting there was easy. You passed through some near empty hallways, and AZ-3 was able to get you access to locked doors. 

The last door was a lecture hall. Cadets filled every seat and the silence indicated they were in the middle of an exam. 

“Oh, great…” Fives sighed. 

“Just follow my lead.” You murmured, walking forward. You got the attention of the proctors overseeing the education of the cadets, “Ah, I don’t believe we’ve met.” you introduced yourself to them quietly, “Ethics Committee from the Grand Republic Medical Facility.” 

Your hand behind your back motioned for Fives and AZ-3 to get to the other side of the lecture hall.

“Ah yes, Doctor. We haven’t had the pleasure.” The Kaminoan on the left nodded to you, “The Ethics Committee usually doesn’t get involved with the education of the clones.” 

“Yes, well, a…pediatrician, Doctor Chalesia, back on Coruscant, was curious about the teaching plan.” You lied, feeling bad using one of your colleagues names for your own means, “I wanted to ask if you could send any notes or protocols to the committee.”

Behind the proctors, AZ-3 and Fives managed to get the door opened. Your lover looked back to you, and you nodded for him to keep going. 

“I would have to speak to Nala Se first, Doctor.” the Kaminoan responded, “If you want the teaching plan, you will have to ask her.” 

“Great! Understood. Thank you.” You gave a small, appreciative yet false smile, “Continue on with what you're doing.” Your steps were steady and collected through the lecture hall, doing your best to look natural and calm.

Once you were past the doors to the Embryo Development Hall, you breathed out in relief. Luckily, no one else except for Fives was inside. The room was spacious, with a gray metal ceiling and white tiles. Lined up neatly were massive machines, all holding tubes containing small, growing embryos inside.

The ARC trooper was already at one of the consoles connected to the unit containing the embryos. It hummed to life and twirled before lowering one of the tubes down to eye-level. The life inside was small, and by your estimation, was most likely a stage 1. 

AZ-3 was already processing the data when you got to his side, “I will now try a stage three embryo.” He stated, typing on the machine’s screen. It hummed again, before shifting and whirling around. After a second, and more hydraulics hissing, a large tube containing a fetus lowered to the console. 

There was a beep, and the screen lit up with a green light. 

“There it is.” your eyes widened. 

“Ah…try another.” The ARC trooper beside you commanded the droid. 

The process repeated, and just like the first, the second fetus lit up green. 

“Based on this data, I can calculate how many in this tree are altered.” AZ-3 was typing on the console again. You weren’t sure exactly what he did, but after his command, every single tube containing a stage 3 embryo lit up in the same blaring green light. 

That could only mean one thing…

“I can't believe it…” Fives breathed out.

Your eyes were wide, “They all have one.”

The door behind the two of you hissed open and the ARC trooper whirled around. His rifle was aimed and readied at the intruder, “Don’t move.”

Nala Se raised her long arms up to show she was unarmed, “Why are you doing this?” she asked, continuing to step towards you and Fives. 

“We know what you've done,” You answered, seething. 

The Kaminoan’s voice was flat as always, “What is it that you think I have done?” She got closer and once she stepped into range, your lover grabbed her.

“How do you explain this?” He growled, swinging Nala Se to stand in front of the console. His rifle was pointed up, right at her head.

“That is a structural inhibitor chip,” She responded, keeping her arms up, “which is supposed to prevent you from being aggressive, like your source, Jango Fett.”

“If it’s only supposed to suppress aggression, why hide it!?” You snapped, “Everyone who knew of its existence has been killed. Except for you, apparently.” 

“I can’t speak for why your colleagues have died,” Nala Se had her large eyes on you, “Jedi Master Syfo-Dias instructed us to implant them during your growth cycle.”

“The Jedi…?” Fives’ rifle was shaking slightly, “The Jedi had this done to us?” He sounded speechless. Even somewhat sad at such a revelation. 

The Jedi he served so loyally had tumors implanted in every clone?

But…Shaak Ti didn’t seem aware of the issue. Did she know?

“It is not uncommon to have inhibitors placed in a clone.” Nala Se said, looking back at Fives. 

You grabbed Tup’s sample and raised it to the Kaminoan scientist, “Well, this one had a mutation and failed.” you snapped, “Every single one of these tumors can do the same.”

“Up until this point, there has never been a problem.” The scientist continued to sound cold and detached. 

Fives huffed and hit Nala Se in the head with the barrel of his blaster, “Well, you have got a big problem now.”

Just as he spoke, the large doors opened again, Shaak Ti, along with several guards, sprinted inside, “Don't move!” She commanded, stopping just short of a few meters from you. Her lightsaber was pulled, and it burst to life, “Drop your weapon.”

“General Shaak Ti!” you were the one to explain first, “We know what's going on. We have evidence.”

At your words she calmed, lowering her lightsaber. She turned it off, killing the ray of energy. 

Met with her silence, you continued, “The Jedi instructed that inhibitor chips be implanted in the clones at birth, but Tup's malfunctioned,” Your words were hurried and panicked, hoping she’d believe you again. You were certain Fives having a gun pointed at the head scientist of Kamino wasn’t helping, but maybe she'll continue to be patient with you and listen, “That's what made him lose control.”

“Where is the evidence?” the General asked, eyes narrowed. 

“It’s right here.” you handed Tup’s sample back to AZ-3 and the droid hovered over to the Jedi. 

The little robot held up the sample so the togruta could see clearly, “As you can see, the chip taken from clone trooper Tup is black and necrotic, indicating a malfunction of some sort.”

Her lavender eyes roamed over the sample, “What caused the malfunction?” She then turned to you, looking for your expertise. 

“Most likely a genetic mutation.” You answered, “One we can’t possibly predict. It may happen again to another clone,” Your gaze was directly on the General, silently begging her to believe you, “These chips have to be removed, otherwise the entire Republic Army could be compromised.” 

“There is no proof of that. This is an isolated incident.” Nala Se snapped and for once, you thought you could hear panic, “Besides, when you removed trooper Tup's chip, he died.” 

Fives pushed the Kaminoan with his baster, “Well, that's not going to happen to the rest of us.” He snapped, “Because I removed mine.” 

“Here is clone trooper Fives' chip,” AZ-3 held up the second sample, bright pink and healthy, exactly the opposite of Tup’s, “As you can see, there is no sign of malfunction in either him or the chip.”

“And Fives doesn’t have any evidence of neurological symptoms.” You backed-up the surgical robot, “He’s entirely coherent. Still himself. Most likely removing the chip has no drawbacks.” 

Nala Se broke, and once again, you swear you recognized fear coming from her, “By removing your chip, you are a threat,” she turned from the ARC trooper to Shaak Ti, “Master Jedi, we must terminate this trooper immediately.”

Your lover's eyes widened, “I am not a piece of hardware!” he cried, and you could tell the stress had finally gotten to him, “I'm a living being!” He hit the Kaminoan with the blaster again. 

“You were created in our laboratories.” She retorted, glaring down at Fives like he was a pest, “You are Kaminoan property!”

“People aren’t property!” You seethed.

“The Doctor is correct.” The Jedi stepped forward, her words calming the situation instantly, “and he is a trooper of the Republic Army, he is not Kaminoan property.” She spat that last word like it was a vile swear. As if the very idea of calling a living being property sickened her. 

The head scientist addressed the General again, “That does not change the fact that he is a danger and must be terminated.”

Shaak Ti narrowed her eyes. She was unhappy at the very least. Infact, the togruta woman was on guard and tense, “I believe that's for me to decide.” She raised one hand and motioned for your lover to lower his gun, “Fives, you are coming with me to Coruscant. I think it's time you told your story to the Chancellor.”

You let out a relieved breath and smiled, looking at the ARC trooper. He shared your joy, brown eyes bright with both relief and happiness.

Of course, Nala Se argued, “Master Jedi, I beg you to reconsider!”

“The Chancellor wanted all the data on Tup to be sent to Coruscant.” the General stepped towards the both of you, she had a gentle hand on your shoulder, “We're sending the data, the tumor, and these two along with it.”

“Then I am going with you.” The Kaminoan stepped forward.

“No, Doctor Nala Se, that is unneeded.” Shaak Ti immediately shot her down. Before there was an argument, she spoke again, “We have one talented Doctor already.” Her hand squeezed your shoulder and she gave you a small grin, “You will remain here.”

“I can not allow that to happen.” 

“Why?” the togruta turned, facing her, “Is there something about these chips you know that we do not?” 

After a stretch of silence, Nala Se lowered her head, “No, Master Jedi. I am simply concerned about the operations here on Kamino. How this situation will affect us.” 

She’s lying. 

You knew she was lying, but you didn’t know how. So, you remained silent. 

When Shaak Ti turned, Fives spoke up finally, “Thank you for believing in us, General.”

She smirked and looked back, “I will tell you the same thing I told your mesh’la,” The Mando’a word sounded so natural from her lips, “It is not a matter of belief, It is simply the right thing to do.” At her words she faced forward, and began to walk away. 

You grabbed Fives hand, and leaned into him, smiling bright.

He laughed softly before raising a gloved hand to your cheek pulling you into a deep kiss.

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

OKAY PERCY JACKSON SERIES THOUGHTS REAL QUICK not in any particular order just what my brain is spewing

(spoilers obviously)

okay so like. it was so good. screaming crying throwing up like!!!!

walker leah and aryan are all excellent and i'm so excited to see them throughout the rest of the show

special shoutout to leah because in these first two eps she's had a lot less screentime than the other two and yet she has completely stolen the show for me

forgot that jason mantzoukas is in this and got jumpscared lmao

the car and then minotaur scenes would have been really good if i had been able to see them

i feel like i was expecting luke's scar to be bigger. this isn't a complaint or anything, just an observation.

"NO I AM SALLY JACKSON'S SON" slayed so hard like i screameddd

percy praying to his mum <3333 there's one thing percy jackson will do and that is think of his mum as a goddess

also HIM BURNING THE JELLYBEANS 😭😭😭

also also him telling his mum that he really feels like he's made friends when you know he's talking about luke is TRAGIC oh no the final episode is going to be sooo good and so heartbreaking. oof.

i really REALLY liked virginia kull as sally, but a lot of the dialogue in her scenes felt a bit clunky to me. idk i know they need exposition and all that, but some of it felt a bit weird. especially their conversation right before she was killed

okay i know a few people in the tag have already talked about this, but sally and gabe felt a little off to me. i know the posts i've seen have said that they downplayed how completely and utterly awful gabe is, and while i do think it was downplayed a little bit, he was still bad enough that i didn't feel like that was a major issue. the part that didn't feel quite right to me was the way sally argued back at him. i feel like what she says to him is kind of what the audience should WANT her to say (because gabe's a dick), but the point is that she doesn't say that, because sally jackson loves percy so damn much that she willingly endures that until she is able to get out of that situation. i swear i'm not going to be like "tHiS iSnT hOw iT iS iN tHe bOoK" much, because it's an adaptation and it's going to have to make some changes and that's fine! but in the book, percy states that he's "never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or gabe" and keeps on emphasising how she constantly withstands gabe and doesn't move against him because of her love for percy, and i just feel like that's an important aspect of her character. also i feel like sally arguing back at gabe is going to make her finally killing him less impactful. and i think it probably also plays a part in gabe's assholery being downplayed. because the argument they have there feels much more like "oh we're so dysfunctional ha ha" instead of "this is an abusive household". you know what i mean? idk i get that it was meant to be a #girlboss moment, and a part of me was like "YEAH GET HIS ASS", but i do feel like that moment didn't serve sally's character as well, changed the dynamic of sally and gabe's relationship, and negatively affected the impact the story will have when percy gives her the means to get rid of gabe and she takes it. this is a very long dot point i'm sorry.

mr d pretending to be percy's dad was SO FUNNY

clarisse is too pretty (/pos), like i was barely paying attention in her scenes because i was literally there like "women <3" thank you dior goodjohn

"you fell in love with god... like jesus?" is a top tier line

i'm so sorry but i'm a "tah-lia" pronunciation truther and it will remain this way in my head

the cut to percy flossing in the woods killed me. like straight up killed me dead.

BLACKJACK BEING THE FIRST MAGICAL THING PERCY SEES!!! THEY'RE GOING TO BE BESTIES!!!

these are all of the thoughts i have atm, and despite my more negative thoughts here, my feelings are almost completely positive (my excitement is less coherent than my criticisms, so i didn't write about them as much). i'm really excited to see the rest of the episodes!

[earthtodora]

📚, ❄️ , 🌸, 🧩 (for the asks!)

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

"island in the sun - maki and toge are grieving yuuta in different ways, yuuji and megumi healing together, panda talking about yaga ---> Malaysia??"

yeah, i write fic ideas down all coherent like that lmao

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

that's a great question, cause every time i get an idea, i immediately attempt to write it, so they haven't really been piling up lately. but something i started ages ago but haven't got the inspiration to finish yet (although i definitely will, at some point), is a jjk beach episode fic where everyone is just being silly and pining and building sandcastles and pranking each other. like, a multi-ship fic of sorts.

now if i were to answer whom i would outsource it to among my mutuals - i only started summer lovin', but i can tell that @uriekukistan knows what's up with summertime fics where the characters are canonically a bit depressed, so i would definitely read the beach ep idea from them too. but honestly, as far along as i am with your firefighter au @sunnyyflowerrs, i am absolutely loving the style of it as well.

and, outside of mutuals, i'm obsessed with stsgkaisen's sense of humor. like. absolute peak. so yeah, that would probably be fitting for the beach fic too.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

i don't have any pets cause our current apartment doesn't allow them, but i'd love a lil doggo (or ten!)

however, sometimes me and my boyfriend dogsit my sister's border collie and she's the bestest girl there is. she's fantastic. i love her so much and i would die for her (pic from yesterday).

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

style-wise, i know i'm a hypocrite cause i always write lowercase on here, but for some reason, reading actual stories and fics lowercase kinda icks me. also, really long paragraphs that include multiple dialogue tags kinda give me a headache, cause my brain keeps wanting to skip ahead and i get tangled up in the sentences (might be an adhd thing too?)

content-wise, i will probably click away from a fic with proshipping, dead dove content, or certain character traits i don't feel comfortable with/ruin the characters for me.

thank youuu for the ask, @sunnyyflowerrs, hope you have an amazing day! ☀️

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 23 - Presumed Dead

Read Part 1 first!!! This is a continuation of Day 4

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 921

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Katsuki opens his eyes the second the nurses' voices are out of earshot. 

He rolls over, tucking the shitty hospital blanket up to his chin. 

Luckily whatever healing Recovery Girl had been able to do worked wonders, and he could freely move when he wanted to despite the extensive bandaging. His shoulder had been nearly unrecognizable when he’d been admitted to the hospital, from what he’d inferred from his chart. 

He’s been conveniently asleep when anyone comes to visit- no one suspecting otherwise when his eternally angry face is peaceful with sleep. 

Two days now he’d been coherent. He’d awoken a few times before that, still heavily under the cocktail of drugs they had him on. 

It wasn’t enough to keep him from seeing Uraraka’s dead body out of the corner of his eye no matter where he turned. 

He looks over at the corner, the murky figure of her dead body disappearing when he looks directly at it. 

His mind can’t seem to completely erase her blood from the walls, sticking hotly like his guilt in his hospital prison. 

Aizawa had tried to come to talk to him, but he’d freaked the fuck out and the nurses had kicked him out before he could say anything. 

Now he just gets to sit in his reality. He killed one of his best friends, he killed her with his quirk from his arm. 

He can still see her face right after he fired, the betrayal in her expression. There was anger there, something he would never forget. She would never forgive him for it, and her friends wouldn’t either. 

Maybe Aizawa will expel him like he deserves. 

His name is whispered in the quiet room. 

Another one of her tricks, something he’d put too much hope in the first time. 

Naïvely he thought she may have lived, maybe he’d hallucinated the entire thing? As soon as he’d turned around he was met with her horrified face, blood coming from her mouth. The glazed-over look in her eye broke something in his heart that would never be fixed. 

And he’s not falling for it again. 

“Bakugo are you awake?” It calls again. 

The voice is uncanny, the little warble her breath gives when she’s trying to be quiet. His brain must be trying to torture him. 

“Aizawa, I think I should come back later…”

“No, he needs to see you.”

You need to face what you’ve done, Katsuki.

He groans, squeezing his eyes closed and scrubbing them with his palms. 

“Oh,” The voice gasps, soft footsteps padding toward his bed. 

No no no no, go away!

The softest touch on his shoulder, the soft velvet of her finger pads unmistakable. 

Fuck.

Tears fall onto his pillow without his permission, he reaches out to the hand when it leaves his arm, grabbing her wrist like a lifeline. 

“Bakugo you’re awake!”

His eyes fly open and he sits up, looking first to the door where his teacher stands, then to the girl by his bedside. 

She’s pale, the light from his window hitting the back of her head like a halo. Her chocolate brown eyes looked at him with so much innocent concern. He liked the bloody one better. 

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, jerking his hand back to tug on the back of his head as he folds into himself. 

“Not real, you’re not real, she’s not real.” He mumbles, whining into the dark of his safe cave when Uraraka places her hand on his back, rubbing gently. 

“Bakugo, they got Eri just in time, I’m okay.” She explains, “You’re the one I’m worried about.”

His teacher clears his throat, “This is what I was trying to tell you before, but you had a panic attack.”

“I was at home, but I came as soon as I could. Now that you’re awake- Bakugo, can you look at me?”

Her hand moves to his shoulder and she squeezes gently. 

It’s too good to be true, but he wants so badly for it to be real. His skin burns where she’s touching him and his breathing is uneven. 

His mind is screaming at him to run, to hide so deep inside himself that they never find him again, but he wants so desperately to see her again. 

His neck creaks when he raises it, the room fuzzy as it comes into focus. 

Uraraka takes the opportunity to bend down to sit at his eye level, crawling partially onto his bed. 

He looks into her eyes, trying to confirm what his mind refuses to acknowledge. 

She’s okay. 

She allows him to reach out to her, letting his arm rest tentatively on her shoulder. 

Dressed in a sweater and leggings, it looks like she has been okay the whole time. 

“There’s no way- I blasted a hole straight through you.” He whispers, gaze drifting down to her chest. 

She winces, “Well, I was dead. Or enough so that the mind control quirk was convinced. I’m fine now though!” Her eyes soften, and she takes his hand in hers, “Bakugo, I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened. It was a terrible situation and, as Aizawa has already assured me, it was not either of us at fault.” 

He pulls her into his chest without a word, ignoring her squawk of protest to press their bodies together. 

He can feel her erratic heartbeat against his own, and he feels like he can finally breathe. 

“You promise?” He mumbles when she finally relaxes. 

“I promise.

[bellaleighwrites]

Writeblr Intro

General Info

Hello! My name is Isabella. I'm in my 40s (a sentence that I'm going to have to change in 13.5 months, but leaving it for now). I've been writing for as long as I can remember. We won't talk about most of my early attempts. I could probably recreate the story I wrote in 7th grade word for word if I wanted to. But, the only reason to do that would be to torture somebody with it. And I don't have anybody I dislike enough to make them read that thing. Same as any of the poetry I wrote during my poetry phase in junior high and high school.

Currently, I work at the service desk in a grocery store. It's great for people watching. Of course, it's also good for making me want to never leave my house and not have to deal with people ever again. If I could get my ADHD brain to work long enough to look into classes, I really want to go into accounting or bookkeeping. The morning bookwork is my favorite part of my job honestly (other than most of my coworkers. I DO like them). I'm the oldest of 4 girls (though, technically one of them is actually a sister from another mister. But, her kids call me and my other sisters "aunt" and my parents "grandma and grandpa" so she still counts.) and have TEN niblings ranging in age from 19 down to almost 8. I think. I tend to lose track of the younger ones.

Anyway! On to my writing! Which is honestly the most interesting thing about me, anyway.

I am in the process of revising my first novel. It's an Urban Fantasy about a vampire who is trying to protect his girlfriend in a world going increasingly mad. He has reason to believe that his Sire is in town and gunning for his friends. He's been informed by the local seer that he will somehow be instrumental in preventing the end of the world. There is apparently a Necromancer loose in the city - and when you and most of your friends are dead, that is a bit concerning. And the firestarting abilities he thought he lost when he was turned have returned, and after 275 years of being dormant they're out of control. This is the first in a series. The book doesn't have a title yet, but the series is called The Vampires of Sangue Collina. Any posts about it will be tagged with #Sangue Collina.

I am also writing the first draft of a Historical Romance. a Regency-era second chance romance. Four years ago, Evelyn and Lucas fell in love. But, her stepfather intended to marry her to the son of an associate of his, using her dowry to pay off a gambling debt. Evelyn takes one night for herself and sleeps with Lucas before running away. Four years later, Lucas has a bad riding accident and in his moments of semi-lucidity the only coherent thing he can say is Evelyn’s name. So, his older brother tracks her down. When he finds her, he also discovers that she has had Lucas’s baby. He drags them both back to London. When Lucas finally actually wakes up and finds out about their child - and about the fact that her stepfather is still looking for her - he realizes the only way to protect them is to marry her. Of course he kind of hates her for what she did, and never mind her reasons. I'm 12 scenes in and really like most of what I have, even though I know that it DOES need a lot of work. I'm probably going to have to add in some flashbacks or something. Because the 12th scene is literally the first time Evelyn and Lucas see each other, and they don't have a proper conversation until the next scene. I need to do something about that. But, that is future me's problem. The tags for that are #You're still the one and #ysto.

And then there's my fanfiction. I write Bridgerton. Mostly Kate and Anthony. And it would take way too long to talk about all of my fics on here. I'll be posting later to talk about all of them. And with links to everything.

Anyway! I intend to post writing updates and snippets on here. I'll also be reblogging writing advice and I want to get better about reblogging other people's writing.

I am especially looking for fellow romance writers. Bonus if you also write historical romance. Much as I love my mutuals, it would be great to find people I can talk to about the specifics of my genre.

[hrefna-the-raven]

Cannibalypse now

First date - tell me more, tell me more - Black velvet dress - Cloudy mornings and sweet bareness - Kiss me, you fool - Waiting in the wings - You're only falling now? - Morning dew and dances

Words: 1808

Summary: The helicopter crashes on the island, only sparing Kelvin and his comrade Hunter from a gruesome death. While Kelvin has not only lost his hearing but also his memory, you return to your work, your thoughts constantly glued to that charming soldier you spent the last days with, hoping to see him soon…

Notes: the player character from the game will be called Richard (Dick) Smith aka Hunter

Kelvin tugged the letter from you back in the chest pocket of his tactical vest, earning a chuckle from Fisheye, who observed the whole scene with amusement.

"Don't be so anxious, we gonna rescue these spoiled idiots from their own island and you'll be back in no time to screw the brains out of your woman."

"You heard that?", Kelvin questioned him with a shocked expression.

"I was drunk, not dead, Robby", Fisheye laughed at him, punching his shoulder in jest.

"Guys, keep it down will you? I need to read through the assignment", another soldier with the name tag Hunter complained.

"Yes Kelvin, no one wants to talk about your sexcapades", the pilot of the helicopter chimed in through the radio.

"I didn't- argh screw you", Kelvin mumbled, gritting his teeth, rolling his eyes before turning off the radio and switching on some music.

His hands rhythmically tapped the beat, head bopping up and down as his lips silently moved to the lyrics of a Grease lightening. It wasn't his usual type of music, but it reminded him of you, giving him a feeling of connection the two of you even through the distance. A sudden shiver ran down his spin and he could feel the tension of his presentiment of this mission filling the air again, casting an anxious glance out. Something wasn't right. Out of the blue, a few shots rang out and one bullet pierced the window next to him. The soldiers screamed and cursed as the helicopter started to falter, the pilot desperately trying to keep control. Another shot resounded, instantly followed by a penetrating alarm sound, indicating that something vital on the aircraft got hit. The helicopter started spinning violently, the soldiers were being thrown around inside. Panic gripped his entire body, he wanted to do something but realised it was too late. Suddenly the door flung open and Fisheye got sucked out. Kelvin jumped up to help but lost his balance, his hands holding on to a metal bar of the seat for dear life, trying to avoid the same fate as his friend.

Hunter jumped up, tried to grab Kelvin's hand, but he was too slow and watched him disappear in horror while the aircraft careened towards the ocean underneath them. The last thing Kelvin saw was the helicopter spinning out of control, plummeting down. He watched helplessly as the aircraft dangerously span towards him. All he knew was that he had to survive this harrowing ordeal, he had to get out of this situation, survive and come back home to you, so, in a desperate attempt, he dived into the water, trying to get deep enough to avoid being crashed. The dreadful silence of the water around him and the constant threat of drowning hang like Damocles' sword over him, meddling with his sense of orientation. It felt almost too late when he realised that he was diving deeper towards the ocean floor. He tried to scream but only a cluster of bubbles left his lips. His mind was racing, loosing one thought as soon as another popped up and as he turned upwards, the a part of the sinking helicopter hit his head, the last thing his eyes registered was Hunter pushing himself out of it.

Kelvin woke up from his slumber with a searing pain in his head. He tried to sit up but fell back down clutching his throbbing head. It was as if his whole body was on fire, threatening to burn him alive, leaving him unable to hold any coherent thought. He closed his eyes in a faint hope that the pain would subside, but it only seemed to grow stronger with every passing moment, slowly engulfing his entire being. Hunter, who had barely recovered from his own unconscious state, rushed towards Kelvin, pulling him up and holding his head as if it was made of the most fragile material, fearing to break him completely if he touched him awry. He tried everything to ease Kelvin's pain but it felt in vain and he could feel his anxiety growing with each painfully slow passing second, wearing him down while his mind desperately struggled to remain on top of this madness. Kelvin's screams were piercing through his ears, lost drowning in a sea of pain, and a somber awareness absorbed his mind. He just lost everyone from his platoon assigned to this cursed mission, everyone but this one screaming mess in front of him and he'd be damned if he'd let death take that one too. Hunter attempted to divert Kelvin's attention from the agony by snapping his fingers in front of his eyes while his other hand gently shook his upper body. Gradually, Kelvin's screams subsided, and his eyes began to move. Hunter felt a sense of relief as his comrade regained consciousness. However, when Kelvin opened his eyes, they were unfamiliar to Hunter. They were emotionless and vacant, like not even a trace of a soul was inhabiting this human body.

"Kel, are you alright? Where does it hurt?", he asked, his voice trembling.

But Kelvin remained unresponsive, only blinking slowly at him. It appeared as if Kelvin was trapped within his own thoughts, and the torment had taken control of him, leaving him in a state of disorientation or....Shit! He can't hear me! Hunter slowly turned Kelvin's head around and gasped at the encrusted blood trailing from his ears. His comrade must have suffered a severe injury from the crash, loosing his hearing in the process. Hunter reached for the notepad stored in the pocket of his vest, scribbling down a few words and holding it up. Kelvin's eyes slowly moved, taking in the words written to him.

Your head is injured, you can't hear. Do you notice anything else? What else hurts? Injuries?

Kelvin was lost in his own sea of thoughts as he sat at the edge of the shore, watching the waves crash against the rocks, listening carefully only to find himself engulfed in a strange realm of silence. His eyes darted back to Hunter and he gathered all his strength trying to respond, but his words came out as a garbled mess of incoherent sounds. Panic set in as Kelvin realised he couldn't hear a thing. He tried to remember what had happened, but his mind was blank white void. A sudden sting of pain hit him in his very core. It wasn't just simple physical pain, but there was a hint of emotional pain as well that gnawed at his soul. Overwhelmed by the deafening silence around him, the agonising throbbing of his head and the loss of his memory, despairing sobs erupted from his mouth, his chest heaving with each outburst. What was happening to him? Why was here here on this beach, surrounded by remnants of an aircraft and dead bodies? These questions plagued him, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind continued to fail him, refusing to procure any useful information. His hands shook, and his mind raced, descending further into a, inexorable despair as he tried to figure out a way out of this nightmare. He took a deep breath, hoping that it would help clear the fog in his mind and he took the notepad from Hunter's hand, writing what seemed to be the only possible question at this moment, sighing at the sight of his scrawly handwriting.

What happened?

Hunter was currently battling his own inner demons, and the memories of the crash kept haunting him unendingly, making it hard for him to cope. However, he held on, putting up a strong demeanor to ensure that Kelvin did not lose hope despite knowing that they were stranded on the island for an indefinite time now, and it seemed as though their rescue was not coming any time soon. He mustered the courage to scribble down every detail of the crash. The pen was shaking in his hand, but he somehow managed to put everything down on paper. He then handed it over to Kelvin, who began reading it. As Kelvin absorbed all the details, his eyes halted at the name of a female, which he couldn't seem to remember. However, something deep down in his mind clung to it as though it was the most precious thing he had ever heard and the promise of getting back to her filled his unknowing heart with joy. His finger tapped at the name before he shrugged his shoulders, trying to silently raise the question at who this woman was. Hunter hesitated for a moment before answering by opening one of Kelvin's chest pockets, taking out a piece of paper and holding it up to him. The soldier hesitantly unfolded it and started reading. Tears filled his eyes as he read the most beautiful words scrawled on the damp piece of paper. Despite still not remembering who you were, he knew he had to get off this island and find you, talking to you and finding out if you could bring his mind to remember the feelings that bound the two of you together.

You huffed at the paper piling up on your desk as you returned to the office after your days off. Of course no one had taken over during your absence, leaving you with all of last week's paper work to deal with before you could even attend to the new requests piling up in your inbox. You slumped down on your chair, sighing with the greatest irritated sigh. You loved being a patient care specialist, you felt like you could help people in need without sacrificing your sanity by surviving long hours of a nurse shift, but the fact that your colleagues would rather only walk down the solo route instead of playing in a team was grinding down your nerves at a slow but steady pace. Your thoughts trailed off to that charmingly sweet soldier you'd spent the last days with. You couldn't believe how he charmed his way straight into your heart, not even scratching at your protective walls to get in, but instantly tearing them down and you didn't even care. You felt safe in his presence, filled with the feeling of finally being home, being right where you always wanted to be. You glimpsed at your phone, beholding the photo you took of the two of you just before you left his apartment this morning, catching yourself at thinking at the wonderful time you had spent together, chuckling at the slight soreness between your legs, a tender reminder of just how much you craved for each other. Let's do this! Your hand grabbed the first paper off the pile, reading the request written on it while your thoughts drifted off to the hope of seeing your soldier back soon.

Part 9 - Blood in the water

SotF masterlist

[jafndaegur]

20 Questions for Writers

My beloved @chierafied tagged me in this so obvi I had to do <3

AO3 username: Jafndaegur

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 24 (most of my works are here on Tumblr ^^")

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 244,262

3. What fandoms do you write for? Sesskag (Inuyasha), Mystic Messenger, Wangxian & various Mo Dao Zu Shi ships, Genshin Impact, Thunderbolt Fantasy, and the Hobbit.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Blood Runs Thicker (The Hobbit) - Kudos: 791

Shatter Me (The Hobbit) - Kudos: 383

The Seventh Wonder (WangXian / MDZS) - Kudos: 347

Of Jade and Claw (ZhongItto / Genshin Impact) - Kudos: 247

Gravitational Fairytale (WangXian / MDZS) - Kudos: 209

5. Do you respond to comments? I really do try to. But I have a Goldfish Brain™, and typically forget that I've read a comment and never respond. 🙈

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? The angstiest ending??? I'm going to say it's tied between Blood Runs Thicker (The Hobbit) since it ends with Bilbo completely abandoning a Dwarven-given identity under the pretense that he was never loved and has to move on - and then a time when I'm without you (WangXian / MDZS), where Lan Wangji must deal with the fact that Wei Wuxian is actually dead and there's nothing he can do but grieve alone.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? My happiest ending for a story is probablyyyy where's my angel (Mystic Messenger) or The Seventh Wonder (WangXian / MDZS). Granted if this was my Tumblr fics, there'd be WAY more fluff to pick from - my favorite being Fragile Duetto (Mystic Messenger).

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really. If I do, any hate is on my old Hobbit fics which were basically abandoned after a serious bout of online bullying back when I was 14. It was a good time lol. I don't really go back to those fics.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not often, and certainly only on special occasion. Any M-rated smut has never been published, though - and I certainly didn't put any on AO3. Only degenerate papapapapapa stuff here on the hellhole Tumblr platform uwu

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Oh absolutely! I started off fanfiction as a crossover writer on FFnet. My first fic was a very tame How to Train Your Dragon x Rise of the Guardians that got really popular. Since then tho, I think my craziest xover was a Mystic Messenger x Style Savvy crossover? The 2 universes together just make so much sense tho in my head lol.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of rofl I'm neither that good or that wellknown - although I wouldn't be surprised if any of my abandoned stuff got stolen.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Again, not that I've known of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Back in the old days on FFnet, I co-wrote a couple Hobbit stories, and a How to Train Your Dragon x Percy Jackson story. Idk what happened to them, they're in the abyss somewhere.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? All time favorite ship? Objectively WangXian (Wei Wuxian / Lan Wangji). Subjectively? Bagginshield. I just go back to them when I'm depressed - they are a comfort ship for sure.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? As I am retired from fanfic writing, I doubt a lot of my fics will ever actually get finished. But Noise of Rain (Sesskag) is a story I dream of finishing - it's my female rage, villain arc redemption, true anti-hero love child. Maybe one day I'll come back to it.

16. What are your writing strengths? Long ago, I'd say exposition. Now it's definitely transformed into vignette romanticism, and dialogue (this has come from my recent influx of script writing though).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Actually sitting down and writing. It's such a slow process for me and my brain runs too fast sometimes to be able to write something out coherently or the way I want to.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Oh I absolutely adore it! It's a very fantasy trope to have different languages actually written in a story, but I'm HERE for it. I didn't take two years of linguistics to not include bits and pieces in a story.

19. First fandom you wrote for? As I mentioned earlier, it was for How to Train Your Dragon x Rise of the Guardians.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Oh I ABSOLUTELY have a favorite child. It's not popular (or finished, RIP), but I love it most by far - Shattered Euphony (ReZhong / Genshin Impact). I consider it one of my greatest works, both in original and fanfic writing. One day I will finish it.

Tagging @anon-drabble @reifromrfa (no pressure tho) and anyone else who'd like to join <3

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

When thinking of your trademark in your writing, I think it is the way you go into details and paint a picture for the mind's eye. The way you balance descriptive imaginations and realistic detailing is just very captivating.

Your art has a funky loose feel to the lining that just feels fitting to the enigma that is your brain, too full to truly poor it all out onto the paper no matter how hard you try. But boi do we love the attempts that give us any slightest peek into that brilliant mind of yours.

You clearly don't draw or write without thinking it over thoroughly.

Bwaaaaaaaa

Thank u! that's super sweet of you to say.

I do tend to overthink a lot of things.

I'm not very good at making like... Outlines or roughs of poses. I very rarely make base outlines, like I usually just start drawing and the rough sketch becomes the final lineart. So I often rely super heavily on references when I draw. For some reason over my 28 plus years of drawing, I never really gotten a grasp on how the torso, legs and fingers all really connect and form one entity. I know I could try with enough discipline and practice, as art is a skill. So I have this weird blend of like... Super confident lines, but not knowing how a torso, shoulders and legs connect which make a really interesting balance, and leads to things like this:

Like I can always see the framework of what I want, especially when little reference is used, but it really seems like nothing connects. Like the understanding of SHAPES is there, but not the understanding of how they are coherent together, if that makes sense? And you can kinda see that in my more high profile art, but I feel there was a period where It did click and I understood how it all connected but I forgot it all.

Like at some point, with these two, (rest in peace. the ship tag has not been updated since I left the naruto fandom) around 2019 I was getting it! Like I felt I was really getting it, Like I MADE THESE!!!! but then I kinda forgot it all. Like I still didn't use a base outline for these and did rely on heavy references, but I feel I was getting a grasp on shading and autonomy and how the human body works and fits together. And then it... Just kinda vanished from my brain, and I regressed to a more chibi simple art style. Either because it was easier, or because I was experiencing more chronic pain in my back and hand.

At the end of the day, I think my art style regressed a lot due to lack of practice, and lack of encouragement from outside sources besides the internet likes and reblogs like RL friends or Family. That, and I feel my attention span and patience for things has just gotten worse as I've gotten older. I'm guessing my Dad's death had a lot to do with that. As, I am over the loss of my Dad as a person. but mentally, I am not over coming the fact that mortality is very fleeting. You think I would spend most of my time living life to the fullest. But that isn't the case. I kinda feel like I've been stuck in that "What is the point of anything if anyone can die suddenly without warning for any reason" Stage of grief that I have NEVER really got over.

Needless to say my Dad suddenly dying with no warning due to a ruptured aurora was just something everyone was unprepared for. He wasn't sick from an illness, no one knew he was in poor health. It wasn't even a car accident. Like he just suddenly died cus part of his heart exploded essentially.

I mean, I know I rarely talk about it, other then mentioning "My Dad died Eight years ago. Haha I'm over it tho, it was awhile ago"

And, While I think I'm over it in the sense with, I'm at peace with always missing him a little bit, and don't think about him constantly... I'm not over it in the sense of how fragile mortality is and how it can be taken away. For no just cause or reason.

I guess I'm over it, in that I'm over that my Dad, the person is dead. I am NOT over the fact of HOW he died. And I think it'll be a long time till I cross that hurtle.

And yeah, that's a heavy part of life, that we all get old and die one day, but some people don't even get to grow old. you think it would make me more.... "make time with what you have, enjoy what you like."

but if anything, it makes me more fearful in "what is the point of doing anything if I were to die tomorrow, what have I done. Folks will miss me, sure. But I will still be gone." So then I just end up doing nothing for long periods of time, and that's mostly why my art skills suffer because I don't see the point of doing a discipline or working towards any goal whatsoever. And I'm just going through the motions. And yeah, sometimes, I will be super productive and be happy and do a lot of things for a bit, but they're always short lived moments and it's hard to stick to things.

Looool sorry if that's all just too heavy.

Oh, if this sounds too complaining... Or "pity party. Woe is me, Dana is Depressed again" ahahahah. Like, that's not the point of this. I mean, it's my blog and I can talk about my feelings I guess, and I feel that Depression, even before my Dad's death impacted my art journey. So I'm still trying to struggle to remain consistent in my endeavors.

Or I could just be lazy. XD That too. XD

Anyways... Moving on in terms of my writing style, that's very nice of you to say.

I am a deep appreciator of inner monologues if it wasn't obvious. I like to dissect what characters are thinking and I sometimes feel I overdo it, and justify every single action and breath they take by getting so close in their own head that there's hardly any breathing room for error.

But I just write how I tend to think in terms of Overthinking, so I don't think I've ever written a character from a close third person (or first person) perspective that hasn't overthought every action before they speak.

But usually within the context of the story, their inner monologue spanning 20 pages actually takes place in the span of less then a few seconds.

I don't think I could write from Bob's POV if I tried. He's a man of action rather then overthinking. And if I held his hand as a third person narrator, he would sho me off and do his own thing gladly without my interference. XD

Anyways. Didn't mean to get so venty on this ask.

Thank you so much for the lovely compliment. Also some insight into my process I guess. XD