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dfroza · 7 months ago

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“Well then, we must conclude that God has given to the outsiders the opportunity to rethink their lives, turn to God, and gain a new life.”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 11th chapter of the book of Acts:

By the time Peter and his friends from Joppa returned to Jerusalem, news about outsiders accepting God’s message had already spread to the Lord’s emissaries and believers there. Some of the circumcised believers didn’t welcome Peter with joy, but with criticism.

Circumcised Believers: Why did you violate divine law by associating with outsiders and sitting at the table with them for a meal? This is an outrage!

Peter patiently told them what had happened, laying out in detail the whole story.

Peter: I was in Joppa, I was praying, and I fell into a trance. In my vision, something like a huge sheet descended from the sky as if it were being lowered by its four corners. It landed right in front of me. It was full of all kinds of four-footed creatures that we would call unclean—I could identify mammals, snakes, lizards, and birds. Then I heard a voice say, “Get up, Peter! Kill these creatures and eat them!” Of course, I replied, “No way, Lord! Not a single bite of forbidden, nonkosher food has ever touched my lips.” But then the voice spoke from heaven a second time: “If God makes something clean, you must not call it dirty or forbidden.” This whole drama was repeated three times, and then it was all pulled back up into the sky.

At that very second, three men arrived at the house where I was staying. They had come to me from Caesarea. The Holy Spirit told me I should go with them, that I shouldn’t make any distinction between them as Gentiles and us as Jews. These six brothers from Joppa came with me; and yes, we entered the man’s home even though he was an outsider.

The outsider told us the story of how he had seen a heavenly messenger standing in his house who said, “Send to Joppa and bring back Simon, also called Peter, and he will give you a message that will rescue both you and your household.” Then I began to speak; and as I did, the Holy Spirit fell upon them—it was exactly as it had been with us at the beginning. Then I remembered what Jesus had said to us: “John ritually cleansed people with water through baptism, but you will be washed with the Holy Spirit.” So, if God gave them the same gift we were given when we believed in the Lord Jesus, the Anointed One, who was I to stand in God’s way?

There was no argument, only silence.

Circumcised Believers: Well then, we must conclude that God has given to the outsiders the opportunity to rethink their lives, turn to God, and gain a new life.

The believers who were scattered from Judea because of the persecution following Stephen’s stoning kept moving out, reaching Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch. Until this time, they had only shared their message with Jews. Then some men from Cyprus and Cyrene who had become believers came to Antioch, and they began sharing the message of the Lord Jesus with some Greek converts to Judaism. The Lord was at work through them, and a large number of these Greeks became believers and turned to the Lord Jesus.

Word of this new development came to the church in Jerusalem, and they sent Barnabas to Antioch to investigate. He arrived and saw God’s grace in action there, so he rejoiced and urged them to remain faithful to the Lord, to maintain an enduring, unshakable devotion. This Barnabas truly was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit, full of faith. A very large number of people were brought to the Lord.

Barnabas soon was off again—now to Tarsus to look for Saul. He found Saul and brought him back to Antioch. The two of them spent an entire year there, meeting with the church and teaching huge numbers of people. It was there, in Antioch, where the term “Christian” was first used to identify disciples of Jesus.

During that year, some prophets came north from Jerusalem to Antioch. A prophet named Agabus stood in a meeting and made a prediction by the Holy Spirit: there would be an expansive, terrible famine in the whole region during the reign of Claudius. In anticipation of the famine, the disciples determined to give an amount proportionate to their financial ability and create a relief fund for all the believers in Judea. They sent Barnabas and Saul to carry this fund to the elders in Jerusalem.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 11 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Just as the experience of the Holy Spirit transforms that small community of believers into the church at the beginning of this book, the presence of the Spirit’s work among these outsiders, the ones who were not a part of God’s covenant with Moses, demonstrates that they, too, are part of the church. This isn’t what many expected, and questions about inclusion of outsiders consume the early life of the church.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 44th chapter of the book of Genesis:

After the meal was over, Joseph commanded the steward of his house.

Joseph: Fill the men’s sacks with food—as much as they can carry. Put each man’s money back into the top of his sack. One more thing: I want you to put my personal cup, my silver cup, into the top of the sack of the youngest, along with his money for the grain.

The steward did everything Joseph told him to do.

The next morning, as soon as it was light, the men were sent off with their donkeys toward home. But when they had gone only a short distance from the city, Joseph spoke to his steward.

Joseph: Go now, and follow them. When you catch up to them, say to them, “Why have you repaid kindness with evil? My master’s silver cup is missing, and you have it. Isn’t this the cup from which he drinks? Doesn’t he use it for divination, to discover secrets hidden from most men? You have committed evil in doing this.”

So the steward went after them. And when he caught up to them, he repeated the words Joseph told him to say.

Joseph’s Brothers: Why would my lord accuse us of something like this? We, your servants, would never do such a thing! Remember the money we found at the top of our sacks after our first trip? We brought it back to you from the land of Canaan. Why then would we steal silver or gold from your lord’s house this time? If you find his cup with any one of us, let that man be put to death, and the rest of us will become my lord’s servants.

Steward: Let it be as you say, but I’ll be more lenient: whoever is found to possess the cup will become my servant. The rest of you will be considered innocent and may go free.

Then they all moved quickly, retrieved their sacks, lowered them to the ground, and opened them so the steward could see what was inside them. He searched each sack, beginning with the eldest son and ending with the youngest; at last, the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack. When the brothers saw this, they tore their clothes in anguish. They knew what had to happen. They had no choice but to load their donkeys and return to the city.

Judah and his brothers all came to Joseph’s house while he was still there, and they fell to the ground in front of him.

Joseph: What have you done? Don’t you know that someone in my position practices divination and can discover secrets hidden from most men?

Judah (speaking for the rest): What can we possibly say to you, my lord? How can we explain this? How can we clear ourselves of this mistake? God has found your servants to be guilty. Here we are then, slaves to you, my lord, all of us and also the one in whose possession the cup has been found.

Joseph: Far be it from me that I should do something like that! Only the one in possession of the cup will be my slave. As for the rest of you, go in peace to your father!

But then Judah stepped up to Joseph and begged him for mercy.

Judah: O, my lord, let your servant please speak a private word to you. Please don’t be angry with me, for you are just like Pharaoh himself. You asked us once if we had a father or a brother, and we told you, “Yes. We have a father, an old man, and a young brother, the child of his old age. His brother is dead, so he alone is left of his mother’s children, and his father loves him dearly.” Then you told us to bring the boy down to you, so that you could see him. At first we said to you, “The boy cannot leave his father because his father would die without him,” but you told us that unless he came with us, you wouldn’t agree to see us again.

When we went back to your servant, our father, we told him what you said, my lord. And when our father asked us to go again to buy more food, we told him, “We cannot go without our youngest brother, or we won’t be able to get in to see him.” So our youngest brother came with us. Then your servant, my father, responded, “You know that my wife Rachel bore me two sons: one went off and never came back, and I know he was without a doubt torn to pieces. I haven’t seen him since he left. But now if you take my youngest also from me and any harm should come to him, the sorrow would kill me. I can’t allow you to condemn this old, gray head to the grave.”

So now if I go back to your servant, my father, without the boy, he will die because his life depends completely on the welfare of his boy. As soon as he sees that Benjamin is not with us, the sorrow will kill him and we, your servants, will condemn the old, gray head of our father, your servant, to the grave. I gave my father my word that I would take care of the boy and return him safely home. I told him, “If I don’t bring him back to you in one piece, then I am perfectly willing to bear the blame forever.” So please let me, your servant, remain as your slave in place of the boy; and let him go back with his brothers. For how can I go back to my father without the boy? I couldn’t stand to see the terrible suffering this would put him through.

The Book of Genesis, Chapter 44 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

Judah speaks the truth. God has uncovered their guilt and exposed it for all to see. Not that someone in their party has stolen Joseph’s cup—that’s not what he means—but years ago they conspired and stole Joseph’s freedom. Ironically they could now lose their freedom to Joseph.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, April 15 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that points to the hope of Messiah:

The Sabbath that immediately *precedes* the festival of Passover is called the “Great Sabbath” (i.e., Shabbat HaGadol: שבת הגדול), in honor of the time when the first generation set aside the lamb for the Passover Sacrifice (i.e., korban Pesach: קרבן פסח).

During the time of the Temple it was customary to obtain the Korban Pesach (i.e., Passover lamb) four days before Passover so that worshipers could make sure that their lambs had no blemishes which would preclude them from being offered as sacrifices. This was done to fulfill the instructions given in Exodus 12 that the lamb for Passover be “without spot or blemish.” Interestingly, this period of time allowed time for each family to become personally attached to their lamb, so that it would no longer simply be “a lamb” (Exod. 12:3) but rather their lamb” (Exod. 12:5). Indeed the Torah refers to "the" Lamb of God, as if there was only one: "You shall keep it [i.e., the Passover lamb] until the fourteenth day of this month, when the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall slaughter him (אתוֹ) at twilight (Exod. 12:6). Note that the direct object "him" (i.e., oto) can be read as Aleph-Tav (את) combined with the letter Vav (ו), signifying the Son of Man who is First and Last.

Shabbat HaGadol foreshadowed the offering of Yeshua as the “Lamb of God” who takes away the sins of the world. The New Testament notes that it was a few days before Passover when Yeshua made His triumphant entry into Jerusalem riding on a donkey, signifying His Messiahship, in fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (Zech. 9:9). During this time, when the pilgrims had come to select the lamb for the Passover sacrifice - they saw Yeshua and cried out: hoshiah na (הושׁיעה נא), meaning "please save" or "save now" (in English this phrase was translated from the Latin to form "Hosanna!"). The people spontaneously began singing Psalm 118:25-26 in anticipation of the fulfillment of the great Messianic hope.

The Haftarah for Shabbat HaGadol (Malachi 3:4-24) foretells of Yom Adonai (יוֹם יהוה), the great Day of the LORD, and the return of Yeshua as Mashiach ben David. May that day come soon, chaverim. For more information, click the link below.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Psalm 118:25-26 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm118-25-26-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm118-25-26-lesson.pdf

4.14.24 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel365:

A Night of Miracles

By: Shira Schechter

APRIL 14, 2024

Last night, an event unfolded here in Israel that can only be described as miraculous. Iran launched over 300 drones and missiles aimed at Israel, yet astonishingly, 99% were intercepted and destroyed before reaching their targets. Most of these were neutralized even before entering Israeli airspace. Though many of us were forced to run into bomb shelters in the middle of the night, only minor injuries were reported – a seven-year-old girl was lightly wounded by shrapnel and one Israeli military base sustained minimal damage. This outcome is nothing short of miraculous.

In moments like these, our thoughts turn reflexively to gratitude. Psalm 100, a chapter of praise and thanksgiving, resonates deeply with our current emotions. Historically, this psalm accompanied the korban todah, a thanksgiving sacrifice offered to express gratitude to God for deliverance from peril, such as severe illness or perilous travels. The salvation we experienced last night compels us to recite this psalm of thankfulness.

The korban todah, the Thanksgiving sacrifice, was accompanied by 40 loaves of bread, which had to be consumed within a day and a night. The large quantity of food and the short amount of time given to eat it necessitated that it be shared with others. This underscores a crucial lesson: our gratitude should not be a private affair. When we experience divine intervention, it is our duty to share our joy and thankfulness with others. The opening verse of Psalm 100 exhorts us to “Raise a shout for the LORD, all the earth.” It’s a call to broadcast God’s miraculous deeds far and wide, encouraging the global community to join in recognition and praise.

A deeper homiletical insight connects Psalm 100 to the biblical narrative of Sarah. The Bible tells us that when she died Sarah was “one hundred years, and twenty years, and seven years” (Genesis 23:1) The sages interpret this to mean that at each stage of her life, Sarah retained the virtues of earlier years—her beauty and purity of youth persisted into her maturity. Homiletically, it’s said that Sarah recited Psalm 100 with the same passion and intent as she recited Psalm 20, a psalm of supplication. Sarah teaches us that our gratitude should be as fervent as our pleas for help.

As we reflect on the near calamity of last night and the providential shield that protected Israel, we can only express profound thanks to God. Let us invoke Psalm 100 with the same intensity and devotion as we did in our prayers when we first learned of the imminent danger. The whole world witnessed a miracle last night—let us ensure they also hear our voices raised in thanksgiving and praise.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

April 15, 2024

Answered by a Word from God

“And no man was able to answer him a word, neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions.” (Matthew 22:46)

The two dominant sects among the Jews at the time of Christ were the Sadducees and the Pharisees. Although both of these believed in the divine inspiration of the Scriptures, they both refused to believe that Jesus was the Messiah.

A climactic confrontation occurred during His final week in Jerusalem. Each group tried to trap Him into a compromising doctrinal argument. To the Sadducees, who rejected the doctrine of resurrection, He said: “Have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by God, saying, I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living” (Matthew 22:31-32). This exposition silenced the Sadducees.

“But when the Pharisees had heard that he had put the Sadducees to silence” (Matthew 22:34), they then tried to trip Him up. He turned the tables on them by a reference to the 110th Psalm, asking how David could call the Messiah Lord if He was David’s son (Matthew 22:45). As our text indicates, they also were unable to respond.

It is most significant that each group was silenced with one single word from the Scriptures. To the Sadducees, the word was “am” (“I am the God of Abraham” [v. 32]), indicating that Abraham was still living. To the Pharisees, the word was “Lord” (“The LORD said unto my Lord” [v. 44]; that is, “Jehovah said unto Adonai”), proving that the Messiah was both human and divine, descended from David but also David’s Lord. Christ’s argumentation was based in each case on the determinative authority of just one word in the Scriptures. For Christ, the Scriptures were inerrant and of full and final authority, and they could not answer His claims without rejecting the Scriptures they professed to believe. HMM

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marjaystuff · 11 months ago

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Interview with Tess Gerritsen

The Spy Coast by Tess Gerritsen has her venturing out from a traditional mystery to a spy thriller. In this story she expertly mixes spy drama with romance while adding some humor. Not only is this a riveting tale but the main character is very engaging as she tackles the ghosts of her past.

Former spy Maggie Bird came to the seaside village of Purity, Maine, eager to put the past behind her after a mission went tragically wrong. These days, she’s living quietly on her chicken farm, still wary of blowback from the events that forced her early retirement. Her final assignment left her very disillusioned. Out of the blue, she finds a young woman calling herself Bianca at her home looking for Diana Ward, another old CIA colleague of Maggie’s. Diana had a talent for making enemies, and Maggie blames her for the debacle in Malta that tore her life apart.

When Bianca’s body is dumped in her driveway and someone takes a few shots at her from across a field, Maggie connects the dots to the tragic case that led her to retire from the CIA. She enlists the help of her baby boomer drinking buddies, four ex-agents with a full assortment of tradecraft skills. The Martini Club, as the retired spies are called, realize that someone is seeking revenge on Maggie. They work together to identify and locate those people and are forced to revisit her role in a mission designed to flush out a Russian informant. It was the mission, Operation Cyrano, that changed Maggie's life and the last one before she resigned. The story bounces between 18 years ago, 16 years ago, and the present, with locations across the globe.

The Martini Club also must match wits with Purity’s acting police chief, Jo Thibodeau who is investigating the murder and shooting. Jo is puzzled by Maggie’s reluctance to share information and wonders how they seem to be a step ahead of her at every turn. She realizes there is more to this bunch than meets the eye and is frustrated at being outmaneuvered by them at every turn.

Readers will not want to put the book down as they search for answers along with Maggie and her retired CIA buddies. The book is refreshing and an entertaining departure from spy thrillers because the protagonists are senior citizens. The story is amusing, suspenseful, and at times intense.

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for The Spy Coast?

Tess Gerritsen: I moved here thirty-three years ago and found out that the town has many retired spies. My husband, who is a medical doctor, had patients who used to work for the government but could not talk about what they did. We found out they were retired CIA including two who lived on my street.

EC: Did you think of the movie “Red?”

TG: I thought a lot of the Helen Mirren character. I did not want to deal with assassinations. What I wanted to write about is the tragedy of the last operation that has haunted the main character, a spy, Maggie Bird. Maggie is made up. Yet, all the spies in the Martini Club are like those retired spies who live in Maine. They are smart and very educated.

EC: The setting in Maine-why?

TG: It is a beautiful setting. This location has many safe houses. We have an International Conference in this little town of 5,000 people. They bring in every year leaders, politicians, and foreign policy experts from around the world. They come and speak here every winter. The town has residents with a lot of international experience.

EC: How would you describe the two spies, Diana Ward versus Maggie Bird?

TG: Diana is a bit of a sociopath. She does what needs to be done and does not care about the consequences or morality. She is the equivalent of the assassins in so many spy novels. She is very efficient. Diana is not someone who could be trusted, not loyal, and self-centered. Everything is all about her. She might be a good spy but is a bad person. On the other hand, Maggie is a spy with a conscience. She is in it to help her country. She was forced to cross a line she did not want to cross. It moved into her personal life, which had everything fall apart for her. Maggie is loyal, calm, friendly, accomplished with a strong sense of morality.

EC: How would you compare the two teenage girls, Callie versus Bella?

TG: Callie is the ultimate innocent. She is a farm girl who is hungry for a mother. She likes to lean on Maggie. Callie is a very vulnerable character. Bella starts off as a vulnerable character but ends up as a nightmare in training. She is being groomed for a bad role because her father is a powerful Russian oligarch, Phillip Hardwicke. Her father sees her as a tool. Her mother is much more of a traditional mom who cares about her daughter. Yet, her mother is disappointed Bella is not more like her. Bella is disrespected by both parents.

EC: Why make Danny, Maggie’s husband, a doctor?

TG: I started off making him a professional chef. But I needed someone who had close contact with the bad guy. It did not feel right so I made him a doctor who would know Phillip’s most intimate secrets. He traveled with him. I gave Hardwicke a lifelong history of seizures.

EC: How would you describe Hardwicke?

TG: He wants power, money, and prestige. He likes to get his way and does not care who gets hurt. He is a control freak, obsessive, intense, cruel, and very smart.

EC: How would you describe the spies in The Martini Club reacting with the police chief Jo Thibodeau?

TG: They simultaneously are cooperative but also antagonistic. At the beginning Jo does not know who these people are, but later realize they are retired spooks. As time goes on in this book and the next, she realizes they are a big help to her.

TG: Did you get any movie deals?

TG: It has been optioned by Amazon for a television series. This is one of the reasons I went with this publisher. They attached a TV deal. There is already a screenwriter, and they are talking about who will play Maggie Bird.

EC: Next book?

TG: I am working on the sequel now. The second book will take place entirely in the town of Purity Maine. It will be titled The Summer Guests and is scheduled for the spring of 2025. It will still have the five retirees and the police chief. The plot has a family visiting in the summer whose teenage girl disappears, plus there is a cold case mystery. The sequel will be more of a classic mystery. If I do a third book that is when I will probably go back to the international setting again.

THANK YOU!!

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yes-sikorskiy-yuriy · 1 year ago

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Thoth is one of the Greatest Priests and Kings of Atlantis. “He” is THAT Atlas, ADAD, TET, IMHOTEP (IMUTES), TAAVT; JHUTI (DHUTI, TEKHUTI); THAT HERMES TRISMEGISTUS, IS/IS (IS) and simply HERMES; MERCURY; CADMUS; ADONAI; ENOCH; THOTH (ANATHOTH), THAUTH (TAUT, THAT)…

“He” is the “Great SERPENT”…

“He” is IBLIS (in the Koran) [ = (alternation of sounds - // )]…

“He” is NICHOLAS THE PLEASER (MIRACLE WORKER) in “Orthodox” Christianity [the Nicolaitans in the New Testament of the Bible are “worshippers” of the Great SERPENT]…

“He” is the famous “Mr. WOLAND” in the novel by the Russian writer-prophet M.A. Bulgakov “The Master and Margarita”…

“His” sacred animals are the bird ibis (“iblis”), the baboon (a type of dog-headed monkey), the “snake”…

His father is Thutmose (Thomé), one of the “Three Strongest” on the islands of Atlantis…

“His” wife is SHESAT. /The term “schizophrenia” comes from her name./ [There are opinions that the wife of God TOTH was the Goddess of Truth and Order MAAT (the word “mother” comes from her name). According to other sources, his wife is the Goddess SESHET (patron of writing and geometry).]

His children and disciples are the Gods OSIRIS, SETH and the Goddesses ISIS, NEPHTHYS…

“His” sacred symbols are “objects” and symbols are “letters”: ANKH (ANKH) - Egyptian cross (Ұ), symbol (hieroglyph, often used by the Egyptians when writing the name of God TOTA), cross TAU (Τ); the letter "T" ("t") in language systems around the world, as well as the combination of letters "TH" ("th") in English; MOON (“Mother of the Earth”); PALM BRANCH (by the way, the palm branch, generally recognized in the system of sacred symbols specifically for God THOTH, is also the oldest universal symbol of esoteric wisdom, symbolically “mentioned”, in particular, in the Bible - it was with PALM BRANCHES in their hands that the people met Jesus , who rode into Jerusalem on a ritual DONKEY, and in the “Apocalypse” the inhabitants of the “Heavenly Kingdom” welcomed the appearance of the Representative of the Higher Powers with PALM BRANCHES in the same way); magical staff CADUCEUS (in the form of two intertwined SNAKES), etc.

TOT is one of the Greatest Priests and Kings of Atlantis (High Priest of the island of Un-dal in Atlantis, “Herald of the Children of Light and the Dweller of the Temple on Unala before the rulers and peoples of the islands,” “Keeper of the keys to the gates of the Sacred Land”). “Lord of Wisdom”, “Creative Mind, Patron of Truth and Wisdom, leading to spiritual formation and bringing to light the implicit power of hidden thoughts”, “Great Sage and Teacher”, “Lord of all knowledge - Human and Divine”, “Shepherd”, “ Guide". “Ruler of the Three Worlds” (“Lord of the Eight Worlds”). “Bearer (“Holder”) of Heaven” Scribe of the Gods. Keeper of the Books of Life, “Lord (Lord) of books, writing and speech,” “Lord of the outline of the plan.” “Lord of the Divine Words” - “Words of Power” [the faith in the power of the Word among the ancient Egyptians, like their “mentors” the Atlanteans, was extremely great!]. “King of years, numbering the years,” “Messiah of his time.” God of the MOON. One of the "Greatest Sons of God." The most powerful Healer, Magician, Alchemist, Astronomer, Astrologer. Master of all sciences and arts, Expert in all crafts, Creator of “Earthly Music” and the first musical instruments [for example, the 3-string lyre]. “The First Intellectual of the Earth”, considered by the ancient Egyptians to be the embodiment of the Universal Mind [“Lord THOTH” - as he was called in Ancient Egypt - was for the Egyptians a “especially sacred” Person among all the Gods].

“At the Creation of the World, it was he who expressed in Words the will of the invisible and unknown Creative Power and pronounced these Words so that the world came into being.” /U. Budge/

Kabbalists identify God THOTH (HERMES) with Adam KADMON himself - “The First Manifestation of the Divine Power.”

The name "THOT" (in English - "Thoth", "Ahathoth", "Thauth") in different languages means the same thing as the name "HERMES" in Egyptian and Greek. /The words “THOT” and “HERMA” (“ERMA”) mean the concept of “column” (a symbol of support, holding, separation) or, according to other sources, “a pile of stones laid out in a pyramid”, “thunder”./ Architectural forms churches, temples, cathedrals, chapels, towers, domes, and spiers “reaching” to the sky are quite definitely associated with this name./

Other meanings of the name “THOT” are “Reason”, “Meeting” (“Assembly”). There are versions that the name “THOT” (“Tehuti”) means, in particular, “The One through whom knowledge flows into the world.” One of the epithets of God THOT - “Trismegistus” - means “Thrice Born” and “Thrice Greatest” (possessing “Knowledge of the THREE parts of the Universal Philosophy”). /There are two HERMES known in history: the older one is Trismegistus, and the second one is an emanation (or “reincarnation”) of him./

#runic magic #graphic magic #sigil magic #магия

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derschwarzeengel · 4 months ago

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So, a quick rundown of the Sisters of Isis series, of which there are only four books (and I've only read the first three, because my library never acquired book 4).

Three fifteen-year-old girls living in Washington, D.C. (Sudi, Dalila, and Meri) learn that they are the Descendants of Horus, and as such are divine Egyptian goddesses. By the end of the first book, they are adopted by the goddess Isis as her Sisters. As a group, they refer to themselves both as Descendants and Sisters of Isis (other people in the know more commonly refer to them as Descendants).

Each Descendant has the power to transform into an animal. Sudi transforms into the Bennu bird, Meri into a cat, and Dalila into a fire-breathing cobra. They also have metallic wands in the shapes of snakes and are marked as Descendants by the birthmark each girl has on her temple in the shape of the eye of Horus. (Isis gives them each a ring at the end of the first book which identifies them as her Sisters.)

The Sisters have been charged by the Hour Priests and their immortal hot mentor Abdel to fight evil gods, demons, and the Cult of Anubis. Long ago, the Cult worshipped Anubis but then they turned to worshipping Seth and using the Book of Toth and Anubis's name in unholy ways. They want to bring about chaos and release both Seth and Apep, as well as destroy the Descendants.

Originally, the Cult of Anubis had a cover as an exotic massage parlor and spa. By the end of the first book, the spa cover still exists but they've also moved to opening up a teen nightclub called The Jackal to recruit teenagers from Lincoln High (where Sudi attends school) and the elite private school Meri attends. (Dalila was homeschooled by her uncle.)

Each of the girls has their own love interest, but since the series was cut short early, official ships are sadly up in the air. As it stands, Sudi is very interested in Scott and before the series starts had broken up with her bad-boy boyfriend Brian, Meri is crushing hard on their mentor Abdel (Abdel returns her interest), and Dalila maybe ends up with Carter.

Both Dalila and Meri are ethnically Egyptian. Sudi is the only one who does not look remotely Egyptian, having been born in Nebraska and has blonde hair and blue eyes. (Unlike Vanessa, Sudi is very much a party girl, isn't shy around boys, and has more experience than the other two with dating and definitely thought about having sex with Scott in the first book.)

All sorts of magical hijinks ensue when the girls are first figuring out their powers. It's kind of hilarious.

Meri's mother is a powerful senator running for her party's presidential nomination. The series very much takes place in autumn 2007, so... yeah, in this universe the USA could have had its first female president. (Her mother also adopted her as an orphan on the streets of Cairo. It's heavily implied that Meri's cat Mewisher is actually the goddess Bastet and also Meri's biological mother.)

Sudi has 12-year-old identical twin sisters who are very into the occult. She bemoans more than once that they should have been chosen to be a Descendant instead of her, because they love all the paranormal stuff. The irony is very funny.

Michelle, a girl at Meri's school, is basically this series' version of Morgan Page. Take that as you will.

The Cult of Anubis targets teenagers, much like the Followers have a lot of teenage Initiates. (And now I want to write a crossover fic where Stanton ends up meeting some teenage Cult of Anubis members. Misunderstandings and hilarity ensue.)

@can-of-pringles

// I’m currently rereading Sisters of Isis #1:The Summoning, and with all the mentions of Los Angeles and California , I.e:

Sudi’s love interest Scott was from LA

Meri and her mother used to live in California before moving to D.C.

the Cult of Anubis started in California (I think Los Angeles?)

It’s always been a headcanon in the back of my mind that Sisters of Isis, Daughters of the Moon, and Sons of the Dark all Share the same universe—Sisters dealing with Egyptian mythology while Daughters and Sons are based in Greek.

What I’m really getting at here is imagining the Cult of Anubis running into the Followers of the Atrox over the years.

Or the Descendants of Horus/Sisters of Isis running into the Daughters of the Moon.

#[ you’re welcome ]#canofpringles #daughters of the moon #sisters of isis

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buuggerz · 2 years ago

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On the other side of the coin, Zag would also be so sweet with Hazel too, showing her he's immune to the cursed gems and being so in love with Arion, I think she'd play mythomagic with him and Nico and he might teach her a bit more about swords too

Definitely !!

I think When Nico First Brings Hazel to Meet Zagreus, He’s a little Nervous cause- (i want my siblings to get along cause i love my sister and it’s nice having a brother-kinda panic)

Which is immediately is Relived.

Because it’s impossible to Not love Hazel, and what’s better than one little sibling, TWO LITTLE SIBLINGS!

Hazel Would be So happy to know she has even more family!!

She!! has!! two brothers!!

I completely agree on Them playing Mythomagic Together!

-Zagreus and Hazel are always a little lost, But they love asking questions, Cause Nicos always happy to answer them!

-Zagreus Would also totally encourage Hazel to summon Gems! especially if The don’t effect him. Especially if it helps her practice! Hazel and him would after go through all of them and identify them!

-Hazel would also Happliy Tell Zag about New Rome and the stables!! and how she loves the horses very much and taking care of them!

-Also Zag Enjoys Giving Hazel pointers on different Sparing techniques. Nico and Him Gets super happy when she does well. they Always make sure to let her know how proud they are of her! They also sometimes Practice with Achilles!

-Zag and Hazel would also Form the “Make sure Nico’s taking care of himself team” cause They know that their brother tends to forget to take care of himself.

-Nico Says It’s not fair that They gang up on him like that- but then again he brought it upon himself

-Nico and Hazel Also Mercilessly Tease Zagreus on His Crush on Thanatos. Especially when the God god of death is found in the palace, And Zagreus can’t help but tease him.

-Zagreus also likes To introduce Nico and Hazel to everyone’s like this:

“These are my Wonderful Little Siblings, The Prince and Princess Of the Underworld - Nico di angelo and Hazel Levesque- You know-“

Regardless if They are already very aware of Nico and Hazel, He also then goes off to Gush about their accomplishments.

He does this not only cause he loves his siblings but cause he knows it embarrasses them a little- And that’s his Duty as an older brother.

-Zagreus also Becomes very Protective of them, after his siblings are mortal demi gods- sure they can hold their own. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t worry.

-Nico and Zagreus also share sarcastic banter ever so often- that becomes a competition to see who can outwit the other- Hazel tends to keep track who wins in her sketch book

(One time the we’re going back n forth at the end

Nico: At least i know what birds are

Zagreus: *overly dramatic gasp* You little shit- you know im sensitive about that nico

and all three of them burst out laughing)

-Hades and Zagreus still have a Strained relationship, But they try to get along for Nico and Hazel’s sake-

-Their shared love of the demi-gods becomes some common ground for conversations that aren’t fights.

Everyone in the Palace that The both royal gods are In Better moods when the Demigod siblings are visiting

#This is Lovin Nico and Hazel hours y’all #Make Zagreus the ultimate big brother #nico di angelo #pjo x Hades game #The underworld siblings #hazel levesque #pjo #hades game #zagreus #percy jackson fandom #my posts

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scribbly-dee · 3 years ago

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Inspired by this post

I adore corruption arcs, so I graded how well the non-archivist characters would have damned humanity if they had been the archivist.

Sasha James 11/10, would be an ideal archivist, this plus her height is probably why the stranger monster targeted her before she could peak

I have a soft spot for any au that knows Sasha has never seen a brain cell in her life and that any unhinged!Sasha au is really just a regular Sasha au. Picture it with me. Sasha and Jon have parallel archivist tracks, until Sasha (my beloved show off) decides: you know what would make me more efficient at snooping? Becoming a Human Google. And things accelerate. The Web doesn't even need to bother with subtly magic lighters, it slaps all 14 marks on her at once by pulling up next to Sasha in a windowless van with "free secrets 👍" written on the side.

After the Unknowing, Sasha takes over the institute from Elias instead of Martin and Peter. With Tim dead, Jon in a coma, Martin lonely-snatched, Melanie compulsively homicidal, Daisy in the coffin, and Basira on autopilot, she quickly bonds with Rosie, the ultimate nosiness enabler. Sasha is a fully marked archivist for a good long while, but doesn't start the apocalypse right away because she's eager to read ALL the ominous notes Elias left, so the watcher's crown statement is in her to-be-read pile. When the apocalypse starts (Rosie: "Hey, Sasha, I just read something extra fucked up that Elias wrote, wanna see?" Sasha: "God yes."), she books it to become the pupil with Rosie as her anchor. Mayhapse an anchor-archivist polycule with Archivist Jon and Martin? Mayhapse Jon is just a normal eye avatar here and deeply invested in all of Sasha's eyepocalypse statements, so it's Sasha and her plus-three? Mayhapse it's a race across the eyepocalypse wasteland between Archivist Sasha and Archivist Jon to usurp Jonah and become the pupil?

Tim Stoker 2/10 dude's here for a good time, not a long time

The only way I see this working is if Elias disguises not-stranger clues as circus related so Tim is motivated to investigate. Otherwise, his archival assistants are way more curious than him and disobey his direct orders to 🍹chill🏝. Jon, Sasha, and Martin inadvertently bring marks home to him like cats bring home dead birds. He asserts his agency when he decides the best course of action? Actually? Just blow up the archives. This unfortunately puts him in a false sense of security, and Elias makes him read the watcher's crown statement by cat fishing him on grindr and sending the ritual as a dm mid conversation.

Daisy Tonner - 9/10 archivist, would have started doomsday before she was at the archivist job long enough to use her PTO

Daisy already had a lot of experience hunting down fear-entity-related people in sectioned cases, which means she possibly canonically already has all the marks from just hunting avatars who use their powers in self defense. The reason she lost one point is because she's too much of a jock to read, only nerds are culpable to watcher crown statements, so this would be the only delay but oh what a delay it will be.

Melanie King - 7/10 archivist, points awarded for achieving her breakthroughs by smashing her head against a wall until she literally breaks through, points deducted for doing so in full clown makeup.

If Jon got a handful of marks by just asking anoying questions in the same room as an avatar, imagine how much faster Melanie would get marks by bringing her trademark Chaotic Brat personality on fear entity investigations. The apocalypse would have started in like two seasons: one season to hire her off the streets and establish shakey, complex relationships with her new assistants (Jon and Sasha put in the time with the institute but were passed over on this promotion for some random YouTuber (plus they're tighter with Tim and Martin, so proletarian solidarity against the boss)).

Then a second season to stab every mark and get stabbed in return. Melanie would blitz through all 14 marks because what precious little impulse control she starts with is slowly replaced with slaughter juice. One fun moral ambiguity to explore could be if Melanie tries to use her new, dangerous Eye/Slaughter powers to revive her reputation and platform in the supernatural community now that she can, ya know, identify supernatural things for the first time ever. Does she acknowledge her entire career up to her hospital episode apparently only investigated fake sightings? A better question to ask is whether Basira, Tim, and Jon ever let her live down how Ghost Hunt UK's professional dignity was contingent on the legitimacy of her sCiEnTiFiC gHoSt eQuIpMeNt in those episodes, so the temperature spikes set to dramatic music were well and truly just temperature spikes and dramatic music. Sasha found a clip of that music playing as Melanie narrates "it's a message... from the other side..." and made it as her text tone.

Also, it would be hilarious if Melanie tried to kill Jonah on sight in the panopticon, once again botched assassination attempt number 1,963,538, and then Jon quietly snuck in to finish the job on his first try just like in canon.

Jon: "What, like it's hard?"

Basira Hussain 3/10 archivist, her eye alignment manifests as office gossip, like a normal person

Basira has the most formidable super power of all: the power to nope tf out of any conversation or plan she wants. She therefore would probably take 10x longer to start the apocalypse than any other archivist because her fatal flaw is refusal to directly engage with a lot of personally difficult things (like the slaughter bullet surgery she organized, Daisy In General, etc). The marks will be slow going if she resists putting her safety on the line or invests time in making good plans (which is smart, but unhelpful for dooming humanity). She would for sure still get marked and end the world because once she's convinced of a plan (aka Elias convinces her of a plan), she's ruthlessly efficient. So I'd stay out of her way that last year or two, she marks the entities right back at them.

Martin Blackwood 2/10 archivist, considering a prerequisite for creepy eye avatar staring is the ability to make eye contact.

S1 Archivist Martin would probably dote too much on the employees under him to be hugely susceptible to Elias' isolation-dependant manipulation. Any progress Martin inadvertently achieves toward the watcher's crown goal would have to be contingent on it helping his loved ones, which is perfect fuel for a "corrupted by good intentions" arc. This would be key because Martin has superb bullshit and manipulation detection, making the marks are tricky but not impossible to orchistrate considering Jon can't stay put in a safe corner for 10 minutes and Martin's mother would refuse to stay with him where she's safe from avatar threats.

Imagine the petty drama when Jon and Sasha learn he got the promotion they wanted because he lied on his CV.

Other than that, Martin would be even worse about pit stops on the apocalypse road trip than Jon because his Kill Bill mode would have no off switch. Does Archivist!Martin and his anchor Jon ever reach the panopticon? Eventually, but not until after they lose points for significantly reducing the apocalypse fear quantity. Would Annabelle survive to deliver her cryptic MaCHiNAtIoNs and achieve the Web's goal? Hard No, additional point reduction for neutralizing the multiverse invasion. Points potentially earned back if Martin's Web connection is strong enough to come up with the multiverse invasion plan on his own, though.

Georgie Barker 4/10, as a fearless coward, all the fear she feeds to the entities would be khaki flavored. They'd get their apocalypse, but they probably wouldn't enjoy the meal.

Similar to Basira, Georgie has the super power to Fuck This Shit I'm Out. She would overall be a subpar humanity damning archivist; a major archivist success factor of Jon's is that he has enough affective empathy to be afraid with every statement giver he reads, so when Jon archives a statement, he unintentionally contributes to the fear soup seasoning. Combined with how Georgie doesn't want anything to do with entity drama, so any corruption specific to the watcher's crown would stagnate. Even her casual exposition conversations would go like

Georgie: "I've connected no dots."

Melanie: "you've connected a lot of dots??"

Georgie: "I've connected shit all dots."

The reason she gets one more point than Basira is because Georgie's fatal flaw is the passive observer quality the Eye tried to stoke in Jon. Her level of engagement oscillates between two extremes, impulsive over commitment and judging from a distance. This would probably lead her to geting involved just long enough for her involvement to become irreversible, at which point she would try to cut that shit out of her life after it's trapped her. She'd linger, barricading herself on the margins of this problem as the marks that are targeted at her slowly tally up until boom. Apocalypse is on and she only half understands what's happening.

Georgie would wander around an apocalypse hellscape confused, but vibes and physical health fully intact. Anchor!Melanie would have quite the emotional journey starting with Georgie on that pedestal Melanie placed her, and ending with a slaughter avatar stabbing the person who convinced her to work on her slaughter inclination.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #daisy tonner #melanie king #Georgie Barker #Tim Stoker #sasha james

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isfjmel-phleg · 3 years ago

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The Blackberry Bushes Book 2, Chapter Six [REVISED]

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

After waking up trapped in an inexplicable new location, Amarantha sets out to find answers--and her mother--and escape. But her explorations lead to unexpected encounters.

For those of you who read the two original chapters from which this one draws elements, you will notice a lot of changes, including a brief visit to a previously unseen suite in the castle, an encounter with a new character, the omission of another encounter, an abbreviated confrontation, and a new conclusion. Memorable or significant omitted material is likely to be reworked into later chapters, never fear.

Amarantha had been kidnapped and brought somewhere in the middle of a moat.

Nothing about this situation made sense, but she understood one fact. She needed to escape at once. She didn’t know how—not even Hopeley had ever faced such peril—but perhaps some exploration would reveal the answer. Ideally, she would find her mother first. Since Amarantha was trapped here, surely they—whoever they were—had brought Edmara too. Where else would she be? And once Amarantha and her mother were reunited, Edmara would find a way to bring them home.

Amarantha ran out of the round room to the outer room’s door. She cranked the knob, which turned smoothly. The mysterious they had not entirely imprisoned her.

But one could not explore and break out of a stone fortress unprepared. Amarantha exchanged her nightgown for a wool day frock from her trunk (one of several her mother had sent a servant to the Melbray house to fetch), thick stockings, and stout boots. The boots had reappeared, along with her clothing of last night, dry, brushed, and laid over the trunk lid.

Of course she couldn’t haul the trunk while escaping, but the satchel she could manage. She kept her sketchbook and pencils but removed the inkwell and most of the books, except The Cases of Morrick Hopeley and Alis’s Travels in Peculiartie. Her rolled and crammed-in nightgown, another frock, and a change of linen and stockings took up most of the satchel’s interior. Her reticule went in too, containing the remainder of the gold monarch she had had to surrender to the man at the telegraph office. With the satchel slung over one shoulder and her coat and hat tucked over one arm, Amarantha opened the door.

A flash of light dazzled her. The door faced a tall dormer window masked in gauzy dust not too thick to filter out the morning sun. This window overlooked a courtyard surrounded by the white stone walls and towers of a castle. More windows peeked out from them, but none betrayed a hint that anyone lurked beyond. Not a soul walked the cobbles of that courtyard. Birds hopped atop the heads of smilingly appreciative gargoyles, unhindered by any sign of the din of human activity. Amarantha might as well have been alone in the castle.

She refused to believe that. The corridor stretching away on her left was only silent because her mother was still sleeping. Or had gone downstairs. Or would appear in the courtyard, face lifted to the sky, whistling that beautiful piece Amarantha could never identify…

Knocking on the first door got no reply. Finding it locked, Amarantha trudged on to the next. It opened on another long, dormitory-like room full of dust-sheeted shapes. The faded curtain swayed in a draft from the cracked window. A valise drooped at the foot of the sole uncovered bed, and a rumpled nightdress sprawled on the coverlet. These effects did not belong to her mother. The lady’s maid’s, perhaps? Or were they the final traces of some other captive?

Not daring to investigate someone else’s belongings, Amarantha moved on. The corridor ended in a corner, turning sharp right into another long corridor, unlit and lined with more closed doors. Under the door immediately before her peeked a crack of light broken by shadows, as if something stood before a window within. The creak of the floor as Amarantha stepped closer convinced her that the next door looked more promising.

Its knob turned readily. Inside, an exhausted gaslight guttered over a rusty claw-footed tub, sink, and…see, this was important to find first, and now that she thought about it, she needed to use—

The steady drip of the sink’s faucet sounded almost conversational. Or did she hear a voice? No, it was gone. She had been alone for so long she was imagining things. But did imagination grow louder? Or echo? Someone was nearby.

Amarantha slipped out of the bathroom. The noises grew louder beyond a shadowy doorway nestled in the angle of the intersecting corridors. She held her breath and waited. Long, light steps answered heavy, plodding ones climbing a staircase. Snatches of words drifted up.

First, a young man’s drawl. “...where am I supposed to take…”

Then a woman’s clipped accent. “...southeast tower...course. Where...think?”

“Perhaps your...woke up?”

“...insinuating. I only...a little...help her...do any harm.”

“Might...beastly, though.”

“Nobody...you. Now get on...wanted in the kitchens…”

He replied something Amarantha could not make out, and from below a door slammed.

Amarantha ducked back into the bathroom. She had heard the woman’s voice before. Gilsbrecht. The one who had put her to sleep with the nasty-tasting water, and therefore a prime candidate for a kidnapper or kidnapper’s accomplice.

No further sound of movement came from the stairs. At least Amarantha had found a way out of the corridors, but Gilsbrecht could be lurking anywhere. If she drugged people for wandering into the wrong train carriage, what on earth was she capable of if she caught one opening doors in a castle?

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Amarantha reviewed her options. She could continue exploring the top floor, presumably alone, in a dark corridor that might reveal anything from more old furniture to literal skeletons in a closet. Or she could slip downstairs and risk encountering Gilsbrecht or some other frightful being in one of the bedrooms of the first floor or in the more public rooms of the ground floor.

Gilsbrecht’s voice had grown louder gradually. That meant she had been coming up, and the silence meant she had left the stairwell. She hadn’t emerged in Amarantha’s corridor, so she must have come from the ground floor to the first floor. Amarantha’s safest option to avoid her for now was to stay upstairs, keep her ears open, and be prepared to hide at a moment’s notice.

Before she could convince herself that the dark of the corridor ahead concealed a far greater danger than Gilsbrecht, Amarantha tiptoed into the gloom. Closely drawn curtains veiled the tall windows on her right, overlooking the courtyard. She pulled the nearest curtain open a crack, striping the opposite wall with smudged light and illuminating plain wallpaper and silently sealed doors. She tried the first knob, half hoping it would be locked and she wouldn’t have to meet whatever awaited on the other side. But the door creaked open like a friendly invitation, showing her exactly the sort of room Edmara would frequent.

Miniature chairs waited around a low table in the center, surrounded by sturdy sofas and cupboards with rounded edges and, as far as the eye could see, all sorts of splendid playthings: rocking horses, dolls and their houses, blocks, ships, arks full of animals. They were as battered and dusty as everything else on the top floor but plainly declared that this room had once been a day nursery.

“Mother?” whispered Amarantha, stepping inside for a more thorough look. She found a piano and a bookcase overflowing with books her parents might have read in their youth, but there was no sign that anyone had inhabited this room recently. Nevertheless, on the first morning in the castle, no one would have had time yet to put every room in order. Perhaps her mother was still asleep in a night nursery whose nurse’s bed had been hastily made up for her on arrival.

The connecting door stood half-open. “Mother?” whispered Amarantha again, poking her head in. Two little white beds, bared to the mattresses, lay within, and in the corner, a larger bed, just as bare and utterly devoid of any occupant. No one had slept in this room for many years, and no one had left behind luggage to mark her territory. A cobwebby print of “Mother’s Here,” that sentimental watercolor beloved of genteel ladies several decades ago, goggled mockingly at Amarantha from above the mantel. She did not dare slam the door as she exited into the corridor, but it shut behind her more emphatically than usual.

The next doors, leading to a schoolroom and another bathroom, also yielded no clues. She seemed to have wandered into a land utterly devoid of life, although spiders were leading a flourishing existence along dusty baseboards. The corridor had almost ended. She could make out nothing beyond it but more darkness.

And a rustle of movement.

Someone was walking toward her.

It was a very tall man in a plain dark suit. His furtive movements mirrored her own; one did not lightly prance down this corridor. He stopped short at the sight of Amarantha staring at him, but within moments he nodded at her, murmured, “Miss,” and continued on his way, as unconcerned as if he met little girls on the top floor of the castle every day.

“Excuse me, sir!” called Amarantha, running after him. He had the mannerisms of some sort of manservant; no gentleman would idly prowl the second floor of a castle, the domain of children and domestic staff.

He paused again and smiled at her. She liked him at once. Something about his open face seemed like an old friend’s. He smiled as if he meant it, all the way to his twinkling brown eyes, making him look quite young, despite the lines that suggested he must have been older than Amarantha’s father. He was clean-shaven like a young man, and his hair was pure black without a thread of gray.

“What can I do for you, miss?” he said in a deep, well-educated voice.

“Can you take me to my mother? Edmara Melbray. Is her room on this floor?”

He said nothing, mulling the questions over. “I regret, miss,” he said, unable to conceal a hint of a working-class accent, “that I cannot be of service. The ladies’ rooms are not in my sphere. I expect the housekeeper would be able to guide you to the correct room.”

“But—”

“If you would excuse me, miss, I have my duties to attend to.” He bowed again and continued briskly up the corridor the way she had come. Amarantha watched him disappear into one of the farthest rooms. She sighed and kept walking, accompanied only by the sound of her own footsteps and some faint echoes of laughter in the distance. Shuddering, she walked faster.

The passage ended in another turn into another dark corridor, probably the menservants’ quarters, since the man had come from that direction. Amarantha’s mother wouldn’t be there. The only direction left to go was down the flight of stairs in the angle of this intersection—down into uncharted territory with the threat of Gilsbrecht behind any door.

Holding her coat closer, Amarantha put a tentative foot into the stairway and began the descent, one stealthy step at a time. The stairway’s wide windows overlooked the courtyard and displayed a clock tower over a gate directly opposite. Amarantha sneaked glimpses of the gilded clock as each turn of the winding stairs brought her closer to the first floor. It was nearly a quarter to ten. She had lost half the morning sleeping off whatever draft Gilsbrecht had forced on her, and she mustn’t waste any more time if she and her mother were to catch a train that would take them home before dark.

The doorway to the first floor gaped at her, displaying a better-lit corridor papered in lavender with scrolling flowers, with carpets on the floor. All visible doors were closed, but from the nearest one drifted indistinct voices. Amarantha stepped closer, straining her ears. There were multiple voices, women’s voices. Could one of them be her mother’s?

Her ear was practically pressed to the door now. Not a single word made sense. The women on the other side were speaking a language she didn’t recognize.

And then the door began to give way.

A fleeting impression of an aproned figure sent Amarantha dashing back into the stairway and stampeding down, not daring to look behind her or stop to ascertain if any echoing footsteps followed her own. She emerged on the ground floor, breathless and shaking and entirely alone.

The darkly-papered and -paneled room in which she found herself had broken out in a rash of antlers. A boar’s stuffed head glared glassily over a daring pair of chairs. Amarantha didn’t like to look at it—what if she saw it move?—but a quick retreat from this room was difficult without a plan. There were more possible exits, doors both open and shut, than she could take in. One doorway offered a tantalizing hint of an ornate mantelpiece and brocade chairs. She crept past this, past the boar’s head, to the other end of the room, where another open door displayed pianos in that grand room beyond.

She had nearly made up her mind to go in and have a long gawk at the splendor when a new scent interrupted the musty smell of the castle. A smoky, plantlike odor, like her father’s pipe, but mingled with something heavier, stronger. And the last time she had smelt it so closely there had been warm arms around her. Her mother was nearby. The smell didn’t come from the grand room. It grew stronger behind Amarantha, where a tapestry hung on the opposite wall. She approached it, fingered a corner curiously…

Footsteps were descending the stairs with stately fury. Amarantha had no choice. She ducked behind the tapestry, scrunched herself as flat as she could behind the cloth, and held her breath. She waited. The steps thundered nearer. Skirts rustled. Heels tapped on the stone floor. A knob on the wall dug into Amarantha’s back.

Her fingers fumbled for the knob and turned it. The wall gave way behind her, and she stumbled backward into a short corridor, heavily curtained, with one door at the end. The smell was stronger here. With some struggle, she coaxed the door open.

A fire in the hearth crackled to welcome her to a high, round room hung with blue velvet. It sprawled everywhere, trailing on the floor, draping off the mantel, concealing the walls as if ashamed of them. Even the furniture was velvet-upholstered. The overpowering smell now crowded her nostrils and made her cough. She had found the castle’s smoking room. And she wasn’t the only one there.

Lounging on the sofa, wrapped in a red velvet dressing gown and holding something to his lips, was a boy with a sharp, pale face and black, black hair. At the sight of her, his eyes glittered. He quickly bent to stub out something in a nearby tray and resumed his languid position as if nothing had happened.

“Ah, Antavia,” said Elystan. “I was wondering when you would show up.”

There was a red mark on his left cheek.

“Are you smoking?” said Amarantha in horror. Not giving him a chance to reply, she added, “What are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking that of you? You turn up everywhere I go. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were following me. Popping up like a Jack-in-a-box—Jill-in-the box? Am I being haunted or did my mother send you?”

“I came by train. So you were there too?”

Elystan shrugged. “I went to bed and woke up here. Isn’t it ripping? I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this. Transported into another world in the dead of night for some grand adventure! Well, I suppose the train thing makes sense too. You can’t prove it though, so I stand by my original theory. Going so soon?” He pointed to her satchel and coat.

“I’m not supposed to be here. But if you’re here, my mother must be too. Where are you keeping her?”

“Keeping her? What is she, a piece of bric-a-brac? I’m not keeping her anywhere. I don’t know where she is. I rang and rang, but she didn’t come. I tried everything—called her name—screamed myself hoarse.” (Amarantha doubted this, for he certainly had no trouble speaking now.) “But she didn’t even send someone with her apologies. No one came at all. Either that bell is broken, or the entire staff is deaf, or there’s not a single person here but me. Oh, and you now.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know where my mother is?”

“What? Oh. No, that’s what I’m telling you. What is she doing? She said she wouldn’t vanish again like yesterday. There was no one to find my slippers. And I had to put this on myself, would you believe it?” He tugged at the cord of his dressing-gown. “It’s all over knots. I’ll have to wear it forever now. And it’s not even one of my favorites.”

“Does it matter? My mother is missing and we have been kidnapped. This is serious.”

He brightened. “Kidnapped? By whom? Anyone I know?”

“Have you seen a tall fair-haired lady? Looks like she’s never had a facial expression since she was born?”

Elystan inspected one of his cuffs. “I see all sorts of people regularly. You can hardly expect me to remember all of them. Especially a dull one. Besides, I haven’t seen anyone today.”

“Well, she calls herself the Liennese princesses’ lady’s maid, and she—drugged me—on the train!”

Amarantha delivered this revelation with all the drama that such a nefarious deed required, but she was performing for the wrong audience.

Elystan didn’t even gasp. “Even better! Did she chloroform you? I know all about that. From books. About other people being chloroformed. Fictionally. She’s probably a Liennese spy sent to bring down the Coregean government. I’m a hostage to be used as a bargaining chip with Delclis, and you were brought along because you know too much.”

“That’s the problem! I don’t know anything! I shouldn’t be here. It’s all a mistake. I need to find my mother and leave at once.”

“If she won’t come for me when I want her, what makes you think she’ll come for you?”

It took all Amarantha’s memory of the Queen’s scolding to keep from slapping him again. “She’s my mother,” she said softly.

“And she’s my nurse. So if she won’t attend to me, she probably isn’t here at all. Perhaps the kidnappers misplaced her.”

“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll—I’ll—”

“What? Slap me again?” He smirked.

Her face burned. Were her thoughts really so obvious he could guess them? “No. I’ll just escape without you.”

He crossed his arms. “What makes you think I want to escape? I’m having such a splendid time.”

“Then suit yourself. Stay on with the kidnappers. I need to find my mother and go.”

She was halfway out the door when he said, “It didn’t really hurt, you know. When you...” He gestured to his face. The red mark showed no sign of fading.

“You might have mentioned that to your mother.”

“You seem vexed.” He plucked a string from his tasseled cord and watched it unravel. “What did she say to you?”

Amarantha shot him a scowl that she hoped told all.

“Look here,” he said, “about your father’s story—I don’t really care if you don’t tell me how it ends. So shall we call it pax?”

And he extended his hand.

She stared at it, as bony and unappealing as a skeleton’s fingers in a white glove.

“No,” she said, hastily adding, “thank you.” As a precaution, she gripped her right wrist and held it still behind her back.

Elystan did not remove his hand. “You probably don’t know what pax means,” he said. “It’s Latin. It means you shouldn’t be cross with me.” He peered up at her with eyes nearly as wide as his smile.

“I’m not cross.” She tightened her grip. “I just...I need to go.”

“You can’t!” he almost shouted.

She flinched and took a step back.

“Until,” he resumed in a normal voice, “we take a tour of this place. No sense in stopping in a deserted castle and not exploring. Where do you think they’re most likely to hide their secret doors? Or the dungeons with the skeletons in chains? Lunatics and ghosts are usually upstairs. With the lady locked in a tower, like in your father’s story—”

“Are you sure you don’t know where my mother is?”

“I don’t. We’ll have more fun without her anyway.”

“Do you think she’s having fun, being lost somewhere? And I never said I’d do anything with you.”

“I know. I’m getting old waiting for you to make up.” He stretched his hand further toward her. “Come on. You know you’re as interested as I am in—whatever this is.”

“You don’t make any sense. We’ve been kidnapped, and all you want to do is tour the place like you’re on holiday?”

“You keep saying kidnapped. As if you know, for certain. But you really don’t. It probably hasn’t even occurred to you that this might be one of my birthday presents. I’ve always wanted to take a train in the middle of the night to stay in a mysterious castle with almost no one. I just didn’t know it until now. He’s outdone himself on the gifts this year.”

“Your brother? I don’t think Delclis would do this. Besides, that’s ridiculous. Your birthday’s not for weeks.”

He leaned back into the sofa. “As far as I’m concerned, the entire month of October is my birthday.”

“It’s still September.”

“It’s called rounding off!”

“It’s called being a—” Amarantha took a long breath and swallowed the words down. “I’m going now.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to leave.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“So I suppose I’ll just sit here. Alone. With only the fire and the curtains for company.” He grabbed her sleeve and tugged it. “I’m not done talking. You can’t go.”

“I think I can.” She pulled away.

He yelled something she couldn’t understand as the door closed behind her, something more like a sneeze than words. But he didn’t try to follow her.

She couldn’t believe his claim that her mother wasn’t in the castle. After all, Edmara had got on the train with Amarantha. Even if she had disappeared, where would she have gone? If Elystan had been on the train with them, perhaps Edmara had been tending him when Amarantha had awakened to find her gone. But Gilsbrecht would have had no sensible reason to keep that information from her. Nor would Edmara have ever boarded a train with a kidnapper. Whoever heard of criminals who thoughtfully spirited away their victim’s nurse—or parent? Perhaps Gilsbrecht was just a lady’s maid after all. But that would give her no need to drug Amarantha.

Yet, if Edmara were in the castle, why hadn’t she been nearby when Amarantha awoke? After such a long night, she would have needed her sleep, and Amarantha’s room was full of beds. If Elystan were to be believed, she hadn’t been attending him. Amarantha had ample evidence that her mother flew to do Elystan’s bidding. She would never have left him to scream in vain for her, not after the previous day’s tantrum. And she wouldn’t have permitted him to wander the castle in bare feet and a sloppily fastened dressing gown. Could Elystan have been telling the truth?

Amarantha set down her satchel and slowly put on her coat and hat. As little as he deserved the credit, she found that she believed him. Her mother wouldn’t have vanished like this unless something had gone wrong—wouldn’t she?

Either way, Amarantha needed to escape the castle immediately. Shouldering her satchel, she cracked open the door behind the tapestry and surveyed the surrounding territory. One horrifying boar’s head, zero lady’s maids. With any luck, she could make a bolt for it and find the nearest door to the courtyard and freedom.

A single slip through the tapestry, and Amarantha ran through the vestibule on tiptoe, painfully conscious of every tap her boots made on the stone floor. The doorway to the stairwell swallowed her up. The windows there surveyed so much of the courtyard that she would be able to locate the nearest exit. Just around the curving steps she found not only windows, but a solid wooden door with an iron knob and hinges.

It was unlocked.

The courtyard sprawled before her, its stone pavement interrupted only by a well in the center and a half-grown tree hovering above the water. Beneath the clock tower yawned an arched opening with daylight on the other side. Leaving the castle might be as simple as walking out the front door. Amarantha sped across the pavement, ignoring the wind that bit her nose and ears, and flung herself into the passage beneath the clock tower as if into the arms of her family.

And she would have been on her way back to them, if it weren’t for the portcullis blocking the exit—dozens of feet of metal framework, thick as her arm, solid as a conviction. On the other side, a bridge stretched across the moat toward an expanse of lawn with forest beyond. Amarantha thought she saw a few men in uniforms at the far end of the bridge. She tried calling to them. One man turned at the sound of her voice and saluted her crisply, but if he could understand her plea for help, he didn’t seem to think it worth bothering about.

Although the guard on the bridge made himself of no use, Amarantha’s cries had not fallen on deaf ears. A hand reached for her shoulder and yanked her around. The satchel slid from her shoulder and fell to the cobbles.

Amarantha first beheld a blindingly white apron, with a silver chatelaine clipped at the waist, clanking with dangling keys and metal implements. The woman belonging to the apron had fair hair knotted smoothly behind and a face that would have made a clock’s look expressive. Wriggling out of her grasp proved impossible. Those fingers had iron bones.

“There you are, miss,” said Gilsbrecht. “I have been looking for you everywhere. We have work for you to do.”

#The Blackberry Bushes #The Blackberry Bushes Book 2 #my writing #Amarantha Melbray #Unidentified Stranger #Elystan Liddick #Sarra Gisbrecht #and various unseen voices

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

Text

Lonely Little Jack-o-Lantern

Description: Yoonkook x reader, Hybrid Au, Zombie Apocalypse Au. You operate your own little farm, living in an area that doesn’t have as many zombies as other areas, but one day a group of hybrids show up, and the changes are immediate, especially where Yoongi and Jungkook are concerned.

Warnings: Mild language, mild blood and gore (very mild)

Posted: 10/30/2020

Tags/Genre: Yoonkook x reader, hybrid au, zombie au

Sort of Fluff, Sort of Angst: 12,331 words

A/N: This is long as heck, so I hope you guys enjoy it, it’s not the normal zombie au type so bear with me, and I got caught up in details. All the details. But here is your story, @ditttiii, my baby bird. And It’s technically still the 29th, but I was formatting it anyway and thought, hey, only a few hours away for me! Happy almost halloween!

You walked carefully, furtively looking around.

Then you spotted it, lifting your machete….

And quickly sliced down and through it, cutting it off at the neck.

Severing it’s lifeline.

How else would you dispatch it?

You straightened up with a grin, putting your machete again. “Perfect! You’ll make a fine jack-o-lantern! And your buddy will make a fantastic pumpkin pie!”

The pumpkins didn’t respond, not that you expected them too.

You picked the smaller one up by the vine and cradled the other in your arm, humming happily as you headed back toward your home.

Sure, there was a zombie apocalypse going on. In fact, most people had retreated to the shelters and military safety zones.

But…you hadn’t actually seen another soul for a couple months, or a zombie since last spring.

Cold was surprisingly effective at getting rid of zombies. They had all migrated to warmer climates, except for the odd straggler that moved so poorly due to frostbite damage that you easily dispatched them.

You’d taken up residence in an abandoned farm-store, with an attached greenhouse that you utilized to maximize food production (plus several extra greenhouses a ways away which definitely helped, but you didn’t use all of them for obvious reasons). You went on your merry way, making enough food for yourself, plus extra just in case, and setting aside extra goods for anyone who happened to come your way. You’d give them shelter plus some dried foods to take with them as they journeyed onward, and they usually repaid you with a couple days of help around the farm or kitchen.

Heck, last summer, you’d hosted an impromptu wedding. The group had been traveling together, both families having been together to meet one another before the wedding, and the groom’s father was a priest. He basically ordained you before he left, even told you where to look for legal documentation at the courthouse for if you ever needed to conduct another wedding.

At this point, the ceremony was more of a comfort sort of thing. A long-held tradition to bring a sense of normalcy to the abnormality of the life everyone now lived.

You paused once you reached your home again, feeling as though something were off.

Slowly you lowered the one pumpkin to the ground, grabbing your machete again.

Then you spotted them. Five figures, moving slowly, just shapes at the moment.

You scooped up the pumpkin again and quickly went inside, putting up your defenses just in case after depositing your pick onto the floor. Then you went out around the back to secure your livestock, which mostly consisted of birds that you had adopted from the abandoned homes and farms around you, a few rabbits, three goats (that you honestly only sheltered for the night, they did their own thing and you let them), and a little piglet that a passing family had left with you a few months ago (the runt of the litter, very weak at the time but slowly growing under your care). You went down the street every morning to milk some of the cows that lived there. You didn’t know enough about them to fully care for them, so you weren’t entirely certain what to do for them, but there was a farmer that came up once or twice a summer to check on you and the cows, and the small herd of cows hadn’t suffered yet. And you had butter, cheeses (when you didn’t mess up the process), canned milk, condensed milk, sweetened condensed milk, and had even tried to make yogurt once or twice (it didn’t go well).

Your next foray would be trying to milk the goats, something you’ve been avoiding because you’d never liked the goat products your family had always pushed on you when you were younger, but desperate times and all.

But that depended on you protecting your home today.

They were moving pretty slowly for humans, but not quite as sluggishly as you would have expected of zombies.

You would have to wait until they were closer.

Whatever they were, they still hadn’t spotted you, even as they got within a 100 feet of you.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!” You called out, pointing the rifle at them.

They stopped, some of them raising their hands, most of them looking surprised.

“We’re just passing through, trying to find our way to the sanctuary!” One of them called.

All of them were men, which made alarms go off in your head.

“You know you’re going the wrong way, right?” You asked, really not buying that story.

Until they all drooped and started griping at each other in a foreign language.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Still waiting!”

“Right, sorry, sorry, um, we were at the Cherimo base, but it was being evacuated, and we were on a smaller plane and it crashed…and…we’re lost…” The one that had spoken before said.

You studied them for a while. You had heard over the radio that something was going on due to resource loss, but the signal had been fuzzy and you weren’t sure why they would….

Was that a tail?

Oh.

“Are you hybrids?” You asked, lowering the rifle carefully.

One of them nodded before the spokesperson, then nervously halted when he saw the others weren’t nodding.

You lowered your guard a little more. “Let me guess, autopilot failed?”

They all nodded this time.

It made sense. If there were limited resources, why wouldn’t they get rid of lifeforms they deemed less useful. Nevermind that so far hybrids had shown more immunity to whatever it was that made people zombies. If one of them were bitten or injured by a zombie, as long as they cleaned the wound thoroughly and quickly they wouldn’t turn.

“It…it seriously hurt one of our friends. The other stayed behind to take care of him, and we were supposed to find help. That was a couple days ago though….” The spokesperson said, voice trailing off or choking up.

You bit the inside of your lip, looking at your home from the corner of your eye, then sighing and putting the safety on. “Alright. I’ll get the truck ready, but if there are two people there, I can only take two extra people. The rest of you will have to stay here.”

“You’ll help us?” The spokesperson said, sounding completely surprised.

You nodded, heading toward the door to unlock it. “But there are going to be so many ground rules. First of all, I’m allowing you into my home, don’t make a mess of it. Drink as much water as you like, it’s clean, and I’ll cook something when I get back. But you can’t sleep here. It’s too dangerous for me. You can sleep in the greenhouse, or you could try the farmhouse down the street. I’ll make an exception for your injured friend and one other to keep him company. And I’m still going to be celebrating Halloween in a couple days, so deal with it.”

He was translating, but they already seemed to be agreeing.

You ushered them in while you got the keys to the truck. “Names?”

“Kim Namjoon,” The spokesperson said, “Fox is Jimin, Otter is Hoseok, red panda is Jungkook, and Taehyung is the bear.”

You paused to study him. “And what, exactly, are you?”

“White-nosed coati,” He answered, nervously.

You blinked at him, then shook your head and kept moving. Grabbing your first-aid kit (had you raided the emergency medical center a few miles from your home? yes, yes you had) and heading out to the truck, you didn’t bother looking to see who would join you.

It was Namjoon and the red panda, who thankfully looked strong. Jungkook?

They guided you back to where the plane had crashed, which wasn’t too hard after you got in the proximate area thanks to whoever it was that had stayed behind keeping a nice, smoky fire going.

But they hadn’t been joking.

Their friend was seriously injured.

The other looked up, obviously scared and desperate, relief visible when he smelled his friends, calling out to them in their language.

You hurried over, not caring about the snarl he emitted as you got close.

They had strapped him down carefully, so he couldn’t injure himself by moving, which was good, but….

“Yoongi, she’s here to help,” Namjoon said, more firmly.

You bit your lip. “Get him in the bed of the truck. We need to get him back to a clean environment, get him fully hydrated so that he can replenish any blood-loss, and then I’m going to have to clean and suture his wounds. Someone get the tailgate.”

The four of you quickly moved, but carefully got him into the truck and made sure he wouldn’t get jostled around too much. Then you drove carefully back to your home, parking as close to the door as possible.

You hopped out and hurried inside, rushing to the basement to grab some of the supplies you kept in the cold down there.

It was a slow process, especially since you kept double checking with the medical books and manuals that you were doing the right thing, but the other boys were patient. Namjoon reading it again aloud if you were uncertain, and reassuring Yoongi that you were being careful and doing your best.

So you had his wounds sanitized and stitched, had carefully given him some medicine to fight any infection that may have started despite the dedicated care Yoongi had provided, and all of you had decided that an I.V. was too dangerous to attempt without further research and verification.

And he was partially conscious by the time you finished, so you all just resolved to carefully give him lots of water (he was no longer strapped down, they knew his neck and back weren’t broken, they were just trying to keep him still), and he was carefully propped up in your guest bed by two in the afternoon.

You left Taehyung carefully giving him sips of water, closing the door softly to limit the stimulation.

“Thank you,” A voice said quietly, accent present.

You turned toward the voice and spotted Yoongi, head down. “No problem. He’s okay for now, I think. I’m not exactly a doctor or a nurse, but I’ve done everything I can.”

He nodded slowly, but you weren’t sure how much he actually understood. You thought he must have understood most of it, though.

You nodded as well, then took a deep breath…and turned away, heading for the kitchen. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”

They hesitantly followed you into the kitchen, peeking around furtively, and sticking to the spots that seemed to be out of the way.

You glanced at them, then grabbed a couple jars of chicken broth. “Well, are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

“Help,” Yoongi said immediately, stiffly walking a little further into the room.

You nodded, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there are potatoes, carrots, and onions. I need two onions…eight red-skin potatoes…and ten carrots. Could one of you go into the greenhouse, through that door, and get me three stalks of celery?”

Namjoon relayed the message and Jungkook nodded eagerly, heading that way.

“Garlic?” Yoongi asked, bringing out the other things.

You contemplated, then shrugged. “Sure, but only one or two cloves.”

He nodded again and headed back into the closet.

You glanced at the other three, then pointed toward the pantry. “In there, rice. Fill this.” You set a measuring bowl out.

Jimin (?) nodded and took the bowl, heading in to find the rice.

You got the jumbo-sized pot out and some of the butter and oil, but didn’t turn it on yet.

Jungkook came back with the celery and you smiled your thanks, getting a cutting board and a knife to carefully cut it up. Then you turned on the stove on a low setting to let the celery cook a little longer.

You had Hoseok (?) peeling the carrots, with instructions on how to chop them afterward.

Namjoon was washing the potatoes.

Jimin was carefully washing the rice.

Yoongi was chopping the onions.

You set Jungkook to mincing the garlic so you could pay attention to the cooking celery, and trying to remember what else you put in the soup. “Jimin, can you go pick some spinach? Fill this bowl, the tiny spinach, though.” You set a bowl down on the counter.

Jimin looked uncertainly to Namjoon, who translated, then he nodded, and headed out into the greenhouse.

Hopefully he knew what the spinach looked like.

Yoongi brought you the onion and you dumped it into the pot.

“Can you go get green onion? Just a small one,” You asked.

He blinked, then nodded, heading out.

You grabbed some eggs setting them nearby for when the onions were ready, and accepting the garlic from Jungkook, but keeping it to the side for the moment.

You handed the spoon to Jungkook. “Stir now and then.”

He nodded confidently.

You grabbed a pan and some of your cherry peppers and mini-sweet peppers. You cut them into chunky pieces, not too big, then coated them in some oil and put them in the oven under the broiler for five minutes, initially.

Jimin came back with the spinach with Yoongi, who had the green onion you had requested.

Jimin took all of it to the sink to wash it, asking something in Korean.

“He wants to know what you need done with the rice and the spinach,” Namjoon translated.

“Spinach can be coarsely chopped, just keep the rice set aside. The potatoes can be cut, somewhat large…um…” You looked around, then pulled the pepper chunks out of the oven. “Slightly bigger than this.”

Namjoon translated.

Hoseok nodded, grabbing the scrubbed potatoes and waving Namjoon away.

You continued watching to make sure they understood, then nodded and went back, checking to see how the onions were cooking, then adding the garlic.

Jungkook looked curious, but also frustrated, like he wanted to ask something but wasn’t entirely certain how.

You cracked half of the eggs into a dish to whisk them up, opting for more eggs since it meant more protein and you had a ton of them anyway. Then—pushing the onions, garlic and celery to one corner—you poured then eggs into the pot and then plonked the lid on for a couple minutes to let the egg cook a bit.

Jungkook stared at the lid, then looked at you, still seeming to lack the words to inquire.

You shrugged, gathering the peppers, and then quickly chopping the green onion, the green part a little bigger than the white, and tossed both of those into the pot when the egg seemed to be the right amount of cooked. Stirring carefully, not wanting to break up the eggs too much, but also wanting to let any uncooked egg have a chance and free the onions, garlic and celery from their eggy prison.

Dear god you hoped this would taste okay.

You boldly poured in the chicken broth, making sure nothing was clinging to the bottom. Then you added the rice, spinach and potatoes and left it to come back up to simmering while you pulled the extra chicken you had cooked out of your cooler. You had planned on making chicken stew, maybe cooking up some dumplings, but…you could tell they were hungry and this would be faster than chicken stew and less nitpicky.

You paused before starting to cut the chicken, quickly going to grab some seasoning and being very careful about measuring that up.

“What is this called?” Namjoon asked, gesturing to the pot.

“Would you believe chicken and rice soup?” You asked, going back to the chicken with a knife. “If you hadn’t noticed, I was kind of winging it. Hopefully it will taste okay.”

Yoongi gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you.”

You nodded. “It’s not much. We don’t even know if it will be good.”

“Still,” Yoongi murmured, shrugging and looking away.

You quickly looked back down at the chicken. “You all are the first people I’ve seen in a couple months. Don’t get me wrong, I love living here. It’s probably safer than even the military zones. The zombies can’t withstand the winters and it makes them easy to dispatch.”

“Lonely,” Jungkook murmured.

You shrugged. “Even in a crowd, people have the ability to feel alone. I think actually being alone is better. Then at least I can’t resent others for not noticing me. It’s an apocalypse. At least I chose this life. No one forced it on me, not the apocalypse, not a plague. I chose this for myself. There’s a sort of satisfaction in that.”

Yoongi came beside you, cat-like eyes flickering over the chicken you were shredding. Then he met your curious gaze, holding it for a long moment.

“I suppose that makes me lucky,” You added. “To be able to decide my own life.”

He blinked slowly.

You shifted on your feet, unnerved.

“Uh, the pot….” Namjoon said, voice nervous.

You broke away from Yoongi’s gaze, and turned toward the pot.

It was boiling, so you turned down the heat for the moment and gave it a stir, then went back toward the chicken.

Yoongi had already taken over.

You stared for a moment, then went to wash your hands. “This place runs on solar power, and has a well. Normally, when I have people here they exchange work for a place to stay for a few days. Your friend is in no shape to be moving anywhere—”

“We’ll happily help you with anything you need,” Namjoon said quickly.

The others were nodding in agreement as he quickly translated, all looking scared and somewhat terrified.

You held your hands up to stop them before they continued down the panicky path they were treading. “I was just going to say, that you can stay as long as you need while your friend is recovering. I’m going to go check on your friends.”

They nodded.

Jungkook followed you out and into the bedroom again.

Taehyung and Jin were asleep.

You carefully closed the door, then studied Jungkook for a moment, noticing a tear in his shirt that looked pretty big. “Are you hurt?”

He glanced down, then looked sheepish and shrugged.

You pointed to a chair. “Shirt off.”

He carefully removed his shirt, obviously in pain from the gash on his ribs.

You could just hit him upside the head. All that lifting he did!

So you did. “Don’t do stupid things like lifting people when you’re injured.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, and you don’t know how much of it he understood, but his cheeks turned red and he looked away quickly.

You went and got water and a cloth, then knelt beside him to carefully clean the wound. You tried not to notice how well-muscled he was, or how he looked much less innocent like this. Sure, he still had an adorably bushy tail, but—

You flinched as a hand rested on your head, lightly stroking your hair, peeking up to see Jungkook mesmerized by your hair.

He grabbed your free hand, which you’d put out to balance yourself when he startled you, and brought it to his heart.

You could feel it racing, and you locked eyes with him.

He shyly looked away after a moment.

You swallowed hard, then finished cleaning his cut, wiping some antibiotic ointment on it carefully, and then bandaging the area. “There. No heavy lifting for a while. I see you overworking and we’re binding your whole ribcage.” You stood up and packed the first aid kit up again, then hurried back into the kitchen.

You stirred the pot, pulling some rice to test it. “Not yet. Tomorrow, I thought a few of us could venture to the local stores and get all of you some extra clothing and shoes and other supplies. Only those of you who aren’t injured, though. There are monsters hiding out in some of the stores still. That means no Jungkook, and no Jimin—I saw you limping.”

“Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, eyes widening.

You nodded, turning to glance at Jungkook as he followed you in, shirt back on. “He has a nasty cut on his ribs. He shouldn’t have been doing any of the lifting he did.”

All of them started ragging on Jungkook, who was sheepish.

Yoongi was over beside the red panda hybrid talking lowly, quickly, and somewhat sternly.

Jungkook nodded, slouching to rest his head on the cat’s shoulder.

You added the chicken to the pot to distract yourself. You’d never really met any hybrids, except a couple of your childhood friends’, but you figured the scenting you were witnessing was more of a private thing from the way the others sort of averted their gazes.

But you were also morbidly curious.

Yoongi came over a few minutes later. “Seokjin?”

“Sleeping still. It’s good for him to rest. How much English do you understand?” You asked, turning a little.

He sort of shrugged.

“Sorry I can’t speak your language,” You said a little more quietly.

He shrugged again. “You…nice. Keep going.”

You blinked at him for a moment, barely registering Jimin in the background making a lot of complaining-type noises. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but…thank you?”

He nodded, looking embarrassed, then mumbled something to Namjoon.

Namjoon looked reluctant.

You studied the room.

Namjoon finally turned to you. “Yoongi was wondering how much you understand about hybrid situations during this…pandemic.”

You carefully tasted the broth as you debated how to answer. “I know…that many hybrids have been used as…stress relief for certain clientele to boost morale. Illegally. Others trained as foot-soldiers in the war against zombies. Sent to a slaughter.”

“Yeah. We were transferred to Cherimo six months ago. We were more for shows than anything too….” He didn’t seem to know how to continue.

You stirred the pot nervously. “Shows?”

“Music,” He reassured you. “But…they were talking about us…taking on second jobs. Just before the crisis. Then we were determined to be expendable.”

You nodded. “I understand. Well, once you’ve recovered, we’ll see about getting you all set up on your own, where no one can determine what you can or can’t be. With any decency, you’ll never have to face such threats again.” You tasted the rice again and nodded firmly. “Well, threats from zombies always exist nowadays. Soup is done. Someone grab the bowls from that cupboard.”

Jungkook was hurrying to do as you asked, getting out the four bowls you had, and then looking worriedly in the cupboards.

You went over, opening the one he hadn’t looked in and pulling out assorted other bowls. “They’re all sort of scavenged. I’ve never really needed more than six bowls before today. Guess we should pick up more when we break into the store tomorrow. I think Seokjin should just have broth for now.”

Jimin nodded, taking the bowl of broth you’d ladled out and heading back toward the room.

You gestured for the other boys to get food for themselves, not exactly hungry yourself since you’d had a decent breakfast and instead opting to bring up your pumpkins. One to carve, one to eat. And then you’d also be able to roast any pumpkin seeds to munch on throughout the winter.

Jungkook, Yoongi, and Namjoon stayed in the kitchen while they ate, mostly watching you as you prepared to cut open the pumpkin you were going to carve.

“What…are you doing?” Jungkook asked carefully, quickly filling his mouth afterward.

“Making a jack-o-lantern. I’m going to gut this, then carve a face into it and pretend it’s a normal Halloween occurring in a couple of days.” You managed to get the knife through the thick rind, then carefully cut open the top of the pumpkin.

It took a while for Namjoon to translate since he’d been in the middle of inhaling his food, but after he did, Jungkook nodded, still looking curious.

Yoongi seemed indifferent, mostly muttering something that alerted Jungkook to the fact that his soup still existed, and giving Jungkook a big chunk of chicken.

“Where do you get things like flour and rice?”

You made a face. “Well, most of it I pilfered from stores. I was lucky to find this place early on, lived about a half-hour drive from here, and they had some things. There are stores equidistantly around here: One to the south, one to the north, and one to the east. West is more farmland and forest mix, as you probably surmised by the drive to your crash site. And there’s a farmer to the south that I do work exchange with. He grows wheat, corn, and sugar-beets, and helps me with some livestock. He in turn knows a guy to the east that’s been running some flour and sugar-beet processing, so he’s been providing me with some flour and sugar when he gets the chance.”

“And what do you do for him?”

You pointed to your basket of eggs. “His wife is allergic to feathers. I provide them with bird meat, and eggs. And I can grow things here throughout the winter, and I have a pretty efficient canning process going here. We just exchange goods and services. Nothing else. His son came with him once last winter. They were out of greens. Thankfully, I had enough for what they needed, and sent them home with plenty of greens and some extra goods to help them out. There are benefits to being a party of one, just as there are downfalls.”

“Being lonely,” Yoongi said quietly, not missing a beat and not looking your way.

You shrugged. “But I get a lot done. And I know that if I need company, it’s not terribly far to where his family is. The rule is to bring some goods though. Like, his wife came to visit me sometime in January—they have a horse and wagon that he rigged a heating system in—and she brought me a cherry pie. I spent Christmas with them, and took an apple and a pumpkin pie. That sort of thing. And if you guys settle near here, then we’ll probably do trades with you guys as well. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. What I’m saying…is that solitude isn’t quite so terrible when you know that there is someone around if you really need them.”

Jungkook had moved closer, watching you scrape out the pumpkin guts with clear curiosity.

You glanced at him again, then turned your attention to carefully cutting slices of pumpkin flesh from the inside of it, not wanting to waste any of it. You were determined to experiment more this year, try not to waste anything because it was…hard. Hard to make everything count, and with seven extra mouths eating you were going to need to make every bit count. You had multiple foods curing in the sun so that you could store them on the shelves in the basement, but still…even though you’d been doing this a while, it was always a curious thing trying to figure out if you had enough food for the winter. And it wasn’t as though you could do much about it with it being the end of October.

“How much warning did you get?” Namjoon asked, the first question he seemed to have himself.

You gave a half-laugh. “Well…we knew about the outbreaks in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa…and my family was already taking it seriously. My parents decided to move out to live with my brother. I was still working, and printing off binders worth of information. No one ever thought to hit bookstores. My dad had started buying gas-tanks and filling two whenever he went to get gas. Left that for me since mom wanted to be by my brother and his family.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

You shrugged. “Half-brother? Not on the best terms. We would have killed each other. As it is, we talk on the sat-phones on Mother’s Day and Christmas. Everyone thought the world would shut down completely, but it didn’t. Anyway, I was banking on them surviving. As much as we don’t get along, my brother is a former marine and his neighbors are well spaced and consist of an older trapper and his wife, a marine buddy of his with his wife, and a cattle ranch. They’re doing great. And I got enough plants and seeds and information, not to mention people raced to get out of the area when they were told it was safest to get to a fort or the nearest Military zone. I hid in the basement for three days after that announcement, but nothing happened to me. I stayed at the house for a month after, packing the truck and trailer. I had my car still, with a full tank of gas, and I went around to see what things were like. There were still a few groups evacuating, but no one really paid attention to me. Met the owners of this place, asked if they were staying or going. They were older, and had been planning on selling the place before all of it went down. I gave them a wad of cash and a box of canned food, they gave me the keys. Everyone I did meet thought I was crazy. I was very careful about moving everything, and I kept everything locked up tight.”

“When did the zombies hit?”

“About this time that year. I remember because I thought it was ironic that the zombies would finally show up around Halloween. They were pretty bad that fall, and into December because it wasn’t as cold of a winter as normal. But January swooped in like a champ with below-freezing temperatures and lots of snow. I was lucky. Very lucky.” You finished picking the seeds out of the guts (at least, you were fairly certain you had removed all of them). “The cell towers were still work intermittently, so I can look up information quickly if I want. And the powerplants…they were still running until December. But hey, I’ve got three generators, and a crap-ton of car batteries for powering extra things, like the greenhouses.”

“Did you farm before this?”

You wrinkled your nose as you thought about it. “Honestly? Not to this extent. I’d thought about it, but the most we ever had was a vegetable garden and a couple of fruit trees. To say there was a learning curve would be an understatement. But I got through it.

“Scared,” Jungkook asked, gaze locked on you.

You shrugged. “Who isn’t? Would you like more soup?”

He looked at his bowl, then looked toward the pot.

“You guys can just help yourselves. I’ll probably eat later.” You picked the knife up again, seeing the end of the conversation in sight once more. Less distraction while holding a sharp object. Sure, what you were cutting out of your jack-o-lantern wasn’t going to be pretty, but you could roast the, up like fries and that would be really yummy. Or you could try to make a pumpkin spice something or other. You weren’t really sure what you would do with all of the pumpkin innards you were breaking out.

You just knew the shell was getting a face.

You paused, turning back to the egg basket. “I never let the animals out again.”

Someone followed you as you rushed out the back door to the small stable/barn/shed that you had shooed the animals into (that weren’t already secure in their own pens, mind), opening the doors to the fenced area for the pig and goats to run around, including your favorite pygmy goat that you honestly rescued just because it was cute. Whoever it was helped you shoo the ten chickens, two turkeys, three ducks, and one grumpy goose out into the bird run.

“Go on chicks. Guster! Get your tail-feathers through that door,” You scolded, picking up the grumpy goose and essentially tossing him through.

He landed just fine, honking angrily at you.

The ducks were happily settling near you, but you carefully shuffled them through the door.

The turkeys had gone through the moment you opened the door, the smarty-pants.

As for the peafowl in the pen on the other side of the property…well…as pretty as they were, you pretty much just fed them and cared for them because you felt bad for them. Sure, you had lot of pretty feathers for crafts in wintertime, but they were loud. And picky. And they ate so much, and needed warmer, dryer, well-kept pens.

But they were also very sweet and probably hand-raised because they always came right up to you.

Without a feed source to purchase for them, you hadn’t thought they would survive this long, but they were still plucking along. You let the male out during the hot days of summer to roam, but he always came back just in time for you to put clean water and whatever treat you’d scrounged up.

You’d let all of the birds out when you’d been tilling, letting them get the grubs and ants and other insects that were in your way.

The ducks would usually go down to the pond, but you’d just cleaned out their swimming pool, so you figured they would be fine as long as Guster didn’t decide they weren’t allowed to be there.

You would have to add more minnows to the pool.

There were so many things you hadn’t considered when you were setting up everything and rescuing the animals you did, that you just sort of figured out as you went. Like, hey! If you capture some minnows and raise them you can give them to your ducks and geese and they will adore you for centuries.

You had to raid the U-Haul and get a bigger transport vehicle, then raid a bunch of farm and pet supply stores. Then again that would use up a lot of gas as well.

“Uh…sheep?”

You turned around, looking at Jungkook, then at the goat that was trying to eat his shoe-laces. “Goat. Carl. Just push him.”

He did, and Carl plodded away.

Yoongi was also there, holding an egg and looking curious.

You glanced around, then grabbed an egg-carton. “Guess we should check for more eggs while we’re here.”

They nodded and helped you search, noses twitching and active as they explored the nooks and crannies.

Four eggs wasn’t bad considering you’d just collected eggs that morning. You’d put them in with the broody turkey. She’d hatched at least half of your chickens, and your third duck. She was your most valued asset.

The boys stood well-back while you carefully pushed her from her nest from behind, and placed the eggs before she could attack your hand, then closed the back hatch.

She was happily situated once more when you peeked in.

“Great. Okay. I need to make the trip across to the other pen, and then go down to see the cows this afternoon. But I need to show a couple of you what to do since we’ll probably be gone most of tomorrow,” You spoke, not really expecting a response.

Jungkook caught your wrist. “Me.”

“Alone?”

“You are alone.”

“But I’ve had practice. At least get Jimin and…who else is staying behind tomorrow? Besides Jin.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Jungkook and Jimin.”

You nodded. “Okay, then at least get Jimin to come see what to do as well. Don’t rush. We’re heading toward that building.”

He looked and nodded, then jogged away.

You huffed. “That boy.”

Yoongi made a soft sound, like he agreed but was also amused.

You turned to him. “Does it bother you when I just ramble on?”

He shook his head, a certain intensity in his gaze as he met your eyes that made it hard to continue meeting his gaze.

But impossible to look away.

His ears twitched, but they were angled toward you. His tail flicked as he stepped closer to you.

Warning lights went off in your head. Seven men. One girl. Alone.

You whipped around as fast as you could and started walking, grabbing the bucket of feed you’d prepared earlier. “Welp, let’s go. I’m sure they’ll catch up with us soon.”

And you swore you heard him hiss in surprise, and you just wanted to laugh at how ridiculous you were being and how ridiculous this situation was, but honestly who would have thought—

You squeaked in alarm dropping the bucket and running back toward the house to grab the rifle and the axe, then racing back toward your peacocks to save them from the zombie.

Yoongi gladly accepted the ax, hurrying after you, but also staying a good ways back so that you would have time to shoot the thing so he could chop it’s head off.

You’d become a very good shot in the past two years.

Yoongi looked like he might be sick after cutting its head off.

You didn’t blame him.

Wordlessly the two of you dragged it a place where you could bury it when you got the chance.

Jungkook and Jimin were there when you two returned, with Namjoon to translate.

Poor Namjoon.

When you were finally done instructing them on the peacocks, and the other animals on the property, you all headed down the street to the cows.

Jungkook fascinatedly touched the cows, while Jimin and Yoongi crouched beside you to learn.

And Yoongi was only gulping several times while he watched the milk tin you and Jimin filled, one cow after another.

The boys were also teasing him, and though he refused to give them much of a reaction, his cheeks were a little red and there was a twitch at the corners of his mouth that hinted at a smile and man that was adorable, especially with how his eyes closed slightly and his hair—

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Nope.

Nuhuh.

Stop it.

“So, what do you do with it now?” Namjoon asked.

You shrugged. “Take it home, separate the cream, pasteurize the milk. Then I’m either going to drink it or make something out of it.”

“Cool,” He replied, then translated, but you got the feeling that only Jimin really needed the translation as the two of them walked away, Jimin carrying the container effortlessly.

Jungkook and Yoongi walked with you, looking around at the farm while you got the cows some fresh hay, and inspecting the houses that the three of you walked past on your way back.

“Where did they go?” Jungkook asked carefully, looking at each abandoned house.

“I don’t know,” You answered quietly. You’d been to each house. When you finished your chores in the winter you amused yourself by inspecting the houses around you. Gathering furniture and supplies that you decided were needed.

“You live there,” Jungkook asked.

You shrugged. “Yeah. It made sense. Live where you work. I was just lucky that they had an extra room attached to the store area that I could turn into my room. I’ll probably just sleep in the kitchen, though. It’d pretty comfortable there once I set up the cot. Nice and warm.”

Jungkook paused by one of your smaller pumpkins that was sun-cured and awaiting transport to where it would be resting for winter or for later processing.

You paused as well, then picked it up. “Come on, panda boy. You can carve one too.”

Yoongi started purring but quickly coughed to cover it.

The other boys were distracted, talking with Taehyung quietly but animatedly, and the door to the room where Seokjin lay was propped open slightly. Seokjin was asleep and Taehyung was eating, cheeks bulging slightly from how much food he’d shoveled in.

Felt good to have your food appreciated, even if they were only eating it because they were half-starved.

Yoongi and Jungkook followed you into the kitchen (Yoongi moving the milk pails, that Jimin had left on the floor near the sink, onto the counter for you).

Jungkook went at his pumpkin carefully, but the one time he didn’t do something carefully he earned a low growl from Yoongi. He proceeded to stick his tongue out at the feline, and continuing carefully.

You pushed the bowl of seeded gut, unseeded guts, and seeds toward Yoongi with a grin.

He winced, but didn’t fight it. He did get a fork and spoon to help him sift through though.

Jungkook hummed as he worked, filling the slight-awkward-slightly-comfortable silence, sometimes murmuring a word or two in Korean.

And you believed that they’d been in the music industry, because there was no way they would pass up the chance for a rare hybrid that could also sing. And Red panda hybrids were rare.

There hadn’t been much of a hybrid-culture around you growing up, so you were aware of it, and had met a few hybrids that were therapy hybrids, but you’d never had significant exposure to them aside from your one road trip with you friends when you broke down in a hybrid town. The hybrid women that came to your rescue been extremely kind to you and your friend and had gotten you on the road again. But they’d told you to avoid hybrid males, “For everyone’s sake” and now…you still weren’t certain what it meant.

You wondered how they were doing during this apocalypse. They’d probably just stayed put and established more defenses. They were already mostly self-sustaining, with their own power supply and water system. Most people wouldn’t have even passed through there unless they were very, very lost.

“There’s a hybrid town…there was a hybrid town, to the east of here. There were completely self-sustaining. After your friend heals up, you might want to head that way,” You said in the silence after Jungkook finished his song. You were finished with your jack-o-lantern, just peeling the skin off of the bits you had carved out to add to the pile of salvaged pumpkin flesh.

Jungkook went rigid, and his tail fluffed out.

Yoongi also looked…tense.

“Or not. Do whatever you guys want,” You quickly added, a little alarmed at how alarmed they got. You’d just wanted to let them know that there was somewhere they might have a better chance. They’d said they wanted to go to the nearest safety zone, but that would also mean returning to servitude, discrimination, and possibly worse things.

Jungkook and Yoongi started having a rapid conversation over the workspace, Jungkook looking desperate and despairing, Yoongi looking uneasy and reluctant and adamant.

You weren’t sure what it was you had said, but they seemed to be quickly heading toward some sort of dispute and Jungkook suddenly turned adamant as well and Yoongi got a fed-up look.

“Namjoonie-hyung!” Jungkook finally called loudly, slamming the knife he had been using down on the counter and turning to head toward the main room.

Yoongi’s eyes widened and he hurried after the panda. “Yah, Jungkook-ah.”

You watched them go, then quickly grabbed the knives and put them in the sink in case they came back. Then you started sorting the seeds out of the guts of Jungkook’s pumpkin as the debate appeared to continue in the next room with lots of shushing.

You really wished you’d gotten more language textbooks and dictionaries. But honestly, there was no way you could have foreseen needing to know Korean.

———

Seokjin was already looking better the next morning, and more aware. Taehyung was carefully feeding him, and between the two of them they managed to tell you about the other pains—possibly broken bones—that Seokjin had. But all you could really do about them (aside from feel them and see if you could feel any displacement, which you didn’t) was splint them and tell him to not take any risks. Unfortunately, at least one of his legs appeared to be broken. You had a brace that he went into comfortable, but that was the best you could do for him.

At least they weren’t avoiding you like the others.

You weren’t sure what it was that you had said that set them off, but, after the…discussion yesterday afternoon, most of the boys sort of avoided you. Looked nervous.

But as it got later in the morning, you gathered and loaded some supplies into the truck. You’d already hooked up the trailer

Jungkook met you there, looking determined.

“No,” You said firmly. “I told you, no injured people on this trip. Too dangerous.”

His brow furrowed.

“No,” You repeated. You were not going to be fought on this. No way.

Finally he stalked away.

You wished you felt victorious.

Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Taehyung were set to go with you—though Taehyung appeared to be giving very detailed instructions to Jimin and Jungkook about Jin’s care—and soon packed into the vehicle.

It was very awkward. Yoongi sat in the back with Hoseok, but he wouldn’t look at you.

Namjoon and Taehyung were crammed in the front and Taehyung had apparently tired of practicing his English because he was talking with Namjoon.

Your hand went to the pocket with the list of things you wanted to look for, as if the list would reassure you that everything was okay.

You could feel someone’s gaze burning into you, and you knew who it was without looking.

You knew it was Yoongi.

You just wished you knew why.

You’d gone east, since that town was fractionally closer, easier to navigate, and hadn’t been raided as much.

“What’s the plan?” Namjoon asked as the houses started giving way to more business stuff.

You started to reply, then pulled into the hospital that was there (just a random specialist center, not a full one, but you thought it still might have some things you could use). “First we see if we can find Seokjin a wheelchair, crutches, or more braces—anything that might help. You have your weapons?”

They nodded.

You parked the vehicle, studying the building for a moment. “Okay. We stick together. Two people look, the other three guard. Got it?”

A smattering of agreements and a queasy nod from Hoseok let you know that they agreed.

“Hoseok and Yoongi, you want to look for the equipment?”

They nodded, though Yoongi was slightly more reluctant.

“Yoongi thinks I should help look for equipment and he should help guard.”

You gave Namjoon a quizzical look.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I’m a little clumsy. They call me the god of destruction. He doesn’t want me to destroy everyone.”

You nodded. “Okay. Also, guys, if you see medical things that will fit in our bags, go ahead and carefully grab it. Especially gloves.”

He nodded, translating for everyone, then listening to a few follow ups. “Okay, so, just to be sure we’re all on, uh, the same page—Hoseok and I search and gather large and small supplies. Taehyung and Yoongi guard, but also grab things as they see them, and you’re guarding and searching as well?”

“That is correct,” You answered, curious. Had that not been clear? “I mean, I can also push one of the carts we brought but…I don’t even know if this place will have zombies. It was mostly an rehab center for old people, and I mostly think we’ll find gloves and hopefully a wheelchair or walker.” You shrugged.

Famous last words?

There were definitely a few zombies.

And by a few, you mean a few dozen.

Also, Hoseok was completely terrified of both the zombies and his weapons. No wonder he looked queasy.

You found a room that was empty and the five of you managed to get inside without zombies , locking and then barricading the door so you all could catch your breath and double check for injuries.

Yoongi grabbed you, moving you around and frantically checking you over, then sighing wordlessly.

“I’m fine. Were any of you hurt?” You asked, trying to visually assess Yoongi since he blocked your view of the others.

“We’re good, Tae had a close call, but he wasn’t bitten.”

Hoseok moved into your line of sight and pulled on Yoongi’s shirt, which somehow effectively pulled him away from you.

Which was good.

You were starting to feel a little nervous.

“Wheelchair!” Taehyung suddenly shouted, all signs of fatigue gone as he rushed toward a whole stack of them.

You looked around at the supplies, then met Namjoon’s gaze. “I guess this would be the supply room.”

Namjoon just grinned.

All of you quickly dispersed to fill your bags with supplies, Namjoon grabbing the different braces and checking how big they were, Hoseok carefully grabbing boxes of gloves and carefully looking over bandaging and such, and Taehyung still playing with the wheelchair.

Yoongi was trying to decipher the labels on the medicine.

You started bagging rubbing alcohol, peroxide, other creams and liquids that you recognized.

Which led to you being beside Yoongi helping grab medicines.

Yoongi seemed to look you over again. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” You answered again, shrugging.

Yoongi nodded, then showed you a label.

You nodded, then went to check on the other boys.

But Yoongi stopped you, a strange desperation in his eyes. “Stay by me,” He said firmly, anxiously.

You stared into his eyes for a moment.

“When leave, stay by me. Please,” He begged, grip on you tight.

You weren’t certain what it was about the way he asked, but the moment he asked, you knew you would say yes. “Okay. When we leave.”

All of you jumped when something banged on the door, but it didn’t sound forceful, and a glance toward the door proved that it was just one of the zombies lightly hitting the door with a cane. Geriatric zombies, those were a thing now. Zombies who used canes and possibly walkers.

Now if only they weren’t interspersed with other zombies that didn’t need such aids, getting out of there would be a cake-walk.

But like most of your life since the pandemic, of course it wouldn’t be easy.

“He should be fine,” Namjoon reassured you, pouring more peroxide over the nasty bite and ignoring Yoongi’s growl of pain.

“Why would he do that?” You asked in a whisper, shaken to your core. The five of you were in a different parking lot now, treating his bite since the coast was clear.

The boys just exchanged glances, then shrugged or muttered something.

“Well…he can take a bite and survive as long as we sanitize fast enough, whereas if you were bitten…that’d be it for you,” Namjoon said carefully, watching as Hoseok meticulously cleaned the wound and then applied antibiotic cream. “It’s preferable.”

“It’s still dangerous,” You whispered, then scanned the surroundings again for any interlopers. “And we’ll give him some antivirals just in case. I still don’t understand why…why he acts the way he does around me. One minute he won’t look at me, and the next he’s getting bit by a zombie so that I won’t be bitten.”

Namjoon looked uncomfortable, like he was hiding something.

Hoseok’s gaze darted up at you, and Yoongi was definitely looking a little red.

Taehyung was checking out the store-fronts, only a couple of steps away from the group. He pointed at one of the stores. “Why…why?”

You followed his gaze, noticing the door that you had marked. “I did that. I barricaded it and marked it. The back door too. I cleared it out. It’s safe to go in there. We’ll get you guys clothing, shoes, coats, and other extra things. But they may have gotten in through the back, so we should secure that before we start grabbing things. And I get to approve of the coats, because there’s a certain type you’ll need to make it through a winter here. Hats. Scarves. Gloves. Blankets. Sheets. Pots and pans. Dishes. You should stay in the truck,” You said pointedly, looking at Yoongi.

He rebelliously looked back, stubbornness in his features. “No. You go, I go.”

You huffed, and folded your arms, but you weren’t about to fight him as well. “Fine, but you’re staying back.”

His eyes narrowed, but that was the only response he seemed to give you.

Once Hoseok had bandaged it, and used one of the compression sleeves you all had liberated from rehab center to hold the bandaging in place and give it more protection, all of you carefully removed your barrier and then cautiously entered the store.

But the barricade on the back door was still in-tact, so you all blocked up the front door for while you were shopping, and each of you took a grocery cart or two with you. You went to the kitchen stuff first and filled a cart, then the home goods stuff and filled a cart. Checked on the boys, but they were trying on clothes and shoes together and seeming to discuss the sizes of the others.

So you went and got yourself some more clothing, your gaze continually catching on the night clothes and intimates.

But that was ridiculous. You didn’t need that stuff. You had no one to impress or dress for.

Then again….

After you put those carefully packed suitcases near the front with the carts you’d filled, then started going through coats, grabbing a few for yourself, but mostly pulling options for the hybrids. The warmest brands. Sturdy ones.

You flinched and jumped at the sound of someone sighing just behind you, staring at Yoongi as he examined one of the coats you’d set aside.

Yoongi met your gaze, looked back to the coat, then stepped closer to you. In your space.

You held your breath as he held you in his stare.

He stepped closer, body right next to yours, and then he ducked and tucked his face against your neck.

You froze, feeling his nose brush against your neck, his furry ears tickling your cheek.

Then his lips pressed to your skin and he pulled away, hand resting on the other side of your face, cupping it so that you didn’t look away as he pulled back.

After a second, amusement sparkled in his eyes and he smirked slightly.

Then he was walking away.

And you were frozen. Absolutely frozen.

Because what the hell was that.

Once you had a coat for each of them, including the ones that were waiting at home, they all sort of went to explore since they could.

You grabbed hats and gloves, some beauty products that it carried (which weren’t numerous). Socks. Boots for when yours wore out.

Then you and the boys carefully packed everything into the trailer before heading over to a farm store that you’d raided and secured before.

Except this time you had extra muscle power to load those wood-burning stoves into your trailer. And extra lumber, chicken wire and other fencing supplies, tools, oils, kerosene, butane, propane, rope, nails, screws, sleeping bags, tents, flashlights and lamps, brooders, feeders and waterers for all of your animals, extra chicken coops and rabbit hutches and just so many different and various things you needed or would need. And lots of seeds. And heavy duty work-boots, overalls, and other labor gear for everyone (yourself included, because you would wear through those boots eventually and your father had drilled in you the importance of good footwear).

Not because you couldn’t come back. With the gas you’d managed to salvage, you probably had enough for another eight trips if you kept decent speeds and your car stayed maintained. And your neighbor had been talking about rigging vehicles with alternate fuel sources, so if he ever got that working….

But you had to assume that he wouldn’t, which meant getting as much as you could while you were in town.

Which is why you thought it couldn’t hurt to see if that little oriental market that had been near there had anything that kept that they might enjoy. But it was smaller, so you told them only one other person could go in with you and still be able to fight, and that you’d prefer it be Namjoon since the two of you could communicate more easily.

There was extreme reluctance, especially since you hadn’t specified where you were going and there were several stores in that plaza, but with the walkie talkies that you all had acquired they finally agreed.

And you got five sacks of rice that still seemed to be okay.

Then you guys hit the plaza with two big-box stores. Getting storage containers, mattresses (because none of you trusted the mattresses left behind in the houses, and the boys insisted if they get one [bless them, they planned on sharing one] that you get one as well and Yoongi wouldn’t let you say no so you made them get two mattresses for themselves), and then you all split up to search the many food isles for unexpired goods.

And of course you got paired with Yoongi.

Neither of you said anything as you started walking up and down the isles, you pushing the cart because he was insisting on being the guard. Not that you guys thought there might still be zombies lurking around (you highly doubted there would be any still hiding after the way Taehyung had run around yelling happily once the group had finished killing the four or five zombies that were in there), but it was better to be safe than sorry.

So there you were, chucking snacks that had been chock-full of preservatives into the cart, and wondering if the cereals would be stale or if they could still be good after two years.

Wondering if he was ever going to say anything.

Grabbing just about every canned good after checking expiration dates.

Taehyung said more when he brought you guys two carts, speaking mostly to Yoongi, who translated roughly. Something about the other boys and medicine.

And then Taehyung was gone with the other two carts he had been pushing, and dragging your full cart away.

The store next door had yarns and fabrics that you all just packed right up, regardless of pattern or texture, as well as all of the threads and pins and beads, packing everything in more boxes and such. Raiding the notebooks, pens, pencils, books (including text books, which included English textbooks that Yoongi grabbed several of, and a Korean-English dictionary and textbooks that you grabbed since you figured they’d be there for a while and hey, what’s another language to pass the time), clothing (again, what could you say, you didn’t know how to make socks or comfortable underwear), instant-photo cameras (Taehyung was especially excited about those with main mentions of Jimin in his ramblings), another pharmacy raid, shampoo and soap, and all of the hybrid stuff that they could ever want, extra furniture that was easier to move, more dishes and cookware, candles, canning supplies, solar panels, solar batteries (could never have enough of those), more foods that you knew would keep (because you were now feeding eight people and Taehyung liked to snack, he was doing it in the store the moment you said something was still good), and then if the boys secreted some things into what you all got you didn’t pay attention since they also didn’t pay attention as you checked out the period supplies because that didn’t stop with the pandemic and though you had alternatives (which you picked up more of, thank the heavens) sometimes it was just easier.

And Taehyung had a cart full of ramen that you weren’t about to fault him for.

Yoongi was the only one awake on the drive home.

“What was that earlier?” You asked. “At the coat store.”

He sighed and you heard pages turning. “True partner.”

You waited for more, but that seemed to be all he was going to say on that front. “What does that mean?”

He sighed again, this time more aggravated and with a slight hiss to it. More pages flipping and you could see his frown in the rear-view mirror.

Finally a frustrated growl and the thunk of a book closing. “Home. Jungkook.”

“We’re almost there,” You replied quietly, sighing. “Almost there.”

Jungkook rushed out when you all arrived, grinning with relief. “Hyungs!”

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi called back, hurrying to him and grabbing his wrists.

Jungkook immediately nuzzled Yoongi’s neck while Yoongi started muttering something, with glances toward you that soon had Jungkook staring as he gently fingered the fabric over the bandaging.

Taehyung raced inside.

Namjoon gestured to the load. “Unload today, or tomorrow?”

“Unload light stuff, leave the heavy stuff for later.”

He nodded, translating and calling Jungkook and Yoongi over.

You grabbed an old pumpkin cart and brought it over for them while Jimin brought over a couple of the grocery carts.

And Jungkook….

You had to scold him about eight-dozen times not to lift things that were too heavy, but every time he just grinned at you and cutely said “no speak English” and carried on (but it usually gave the other guys time to get over to him and at least help carry the heavier things.

Jimin was parked in the basement stacking canned and jarred goods on your food shelves and medicines and other non-food items on your other shelves, since it required less movement and he apparently aggravated his injury while all of you were gone. You were guessing one of the goats tried to get him, but Namjoon didn’t seem to know how to translate what was said, so you just left it at that.

Taehyung had rejoined everyone in unloading, and was working with you as a two man conveyor system for Jimin.

You swore Jungkook was trying to show off.

Yoongi took the suitcases that all of you had filled with clothing and coats and stacked them in your bedroom to go through later.

And before you knew it, the truck and trailer were almost completely empty.

Jungkook had ingredients out like he was about to cook, and he looked at you happily, as though inviting you to cook with him.

You nodded, gesturing for him to lead on.

He grinned and then brought you some vegetables. “Chop.”

You nodded, not even surprised as Yoongi also joined you and Jungkook and everyone else disappeared to ‘go check on Seokjin’. Because you could see Taehyung and Jimin playing outside and exploring one of the greenhouses, looking at the pumpkins, and Namjoon was just through the door, looking through a stack of books. Which meant Hoseok was probably the only one who actually went to check on Seokjin.

Yoongi and Jungkook somehow managed to give you enough instructions that you managed to help them, and when they couldn’t find an ingredient and couldn’t name it, you would play a guessing game with Yoongi. The hardest was probably soy sauce.

But the most surprising thing was probably how…touchy they were with you.

Or when Jungkook just came up behind you, wrapped one arm around your waist, shoved his face in your neck, and licked you.

Licked. You.

And you yelped, because all of that happened in about two seconds, and you could feel their surprisingly stunned stares as you booked it out of there.

You walked quickly across to one of the greenhouses, cursing frantically and pretending you were doing something completely routine by getting treats for your animals.

Namjoon found you, looking nervous. “Hey. Yoongi sent me to find you.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, picking up a pumpkin. “What the hell is going on, Namjoon? And I am not in the mood for and BS.”

He winced. “Um…what do you know…about…mates?”

“I suppose we aren’t talking about the British or Australian definitions, and more biological definition?” You led the way toward your rabbit barn and hutch.

He nodded, looking anywhere but you. “Definitely more biological.”

“Sorry you got caught in the crosshairs as translator,” You muttered, dropping the pumpkin so that it would break, and then putting pieces of it in the different hutches with some of the seeds for them to enjoy, but also giving them lots of fresh grasses and greens so that they wouldn’t overindulge. You’d give the rest of it to the goats and pig.

He shrugged, peeking at the rabbits. “Cute. So, for hybrids, potential mates are identified by smell a lot of the time. Jungkook and Yoongi are technically mates, but…they also identified you as a potential mate. So…they…want to stay near you.”

“So, hypothetically, if I had told them about a hybrid city that you all may have wanted to go to after leaving here and they reacted poorly to it, it would be because it was almost like an unconscious rejection of them?” You asked, darting glances toward him.

He snorted, and then started laughing. “Is that what happened? Geez, they’re so dramatic. Look, I already told them to take it easy around you because you are human and it might not be something you want for yourself. But…even if you aren’t…we would all like to stick around. Maybe not here exactly, but we could be close by and help you out when you need it. You’re the first person, hybrid or human, who has ever been kind to us. And we feel safe here. Would it be okay if we stuck around?”

You considered it for a moment, wondering what it was that made them feel so safe or comfortable. And if you were okay with what he’d said. Yoongi and Jungkook wanted you as their mate. As proposals went, you’d heard worse, but you also hadn’t known them long enough to commit to anything. “Tell them they have to play the long-game. And…I kept a couple of the nearby houses from having burst pipes the last two winters for when people pass through. If we get the one across the street set up with a power supply, you guys can live there. The house next door is for refugees on the move, and me. It’s easier to bathe there.”

He grinned at you. “We can stay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not. But that means we’ll have to be frugal. I’ll need you guys to help me get two more greenhouses planted.”

“Sure! We can do that!” He grinned happily, bouncing on his toes.

“Great. Now, go tell the boys to stop attacking me with affection out of the blue.”

He laughed and hurried off to tell the others.

What had you just agreed to?

———

You weren’t sure what it was about Halloween that always brought more zombies around than normal. Maybe it was the swift approach of winter. The hard frosts. Urging them to migrate.

Either way, you’d had your work cut out for you from the moment you woke up.

Thankfully, the boys hadn’t wandered off alone at all, and never unarmed after you woke everyone by shooting the rifle.

You did lose another chicken though, the one that refused to go into the coop once she’d escaped the previous evening.

“Is that coffee?” Yoongi asked, gaze locked on your mug.

“Sort of,” You answered, gesturing to the pot. “There’s coffee in it, if that’s what you’re asking.” You’d combined your coffee-tasting tea with some of the frozen coffee grounds you had. You hadn’t resorted to your instant coffee yet. You weren’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to coffee.

But that day was fast approaching.

You would have to bid your vice goodbye.

Another gunshot alerted you to an issue out front, but you waited for the holler for assistance.

“We’re good!”

You nodded and poured Yoongi a mug of the sort-of-coffee sort-of-tea.

He took a sip and sighed. “Good.”

“Glad you like it,” You replied.

He nodded, then sat back beside you, surveying the fields for more zombies.

Jungkook came and sat between the two of you on the ground, leaning against Yoongi’s legs.

They sat with you in comfortable silence, though Jungkook was also tracing the seam along your calf. Barely touching, seemingly an absentminded action, but slowly capturing your full attention.

Jungkook peeked up at you, then back down, tugging on the seam. “Okay?”

You smiled. “Sure.” It was amusing that he wanted permission to play with a seam.

Yoongi glanced around, then got up. “Can see house?” He asked, pointing toward the house next door.

You looked around seeing Jimin and Hoseok coming around to relieve you and Yoongi from your watch. “Sure, just tell them where we’re going.”

Jungkook nodded, hopping up and racing to meet them, glancing back multiple times as they continued walking over.

Jimin gave you a thumbs up, and they took your places.

You led the two curious hybrids over to the house, glad you’d kept up with cleaning it once a week. It was chilly in there, but not freezing. And honestly, during winter, you preferred staying in there because of the bathroom. You’d set up a shower in the store, and a sort of bath, but usually if you really wanted to feel clean and bathe in nice hot water, you came to the house and indulged because it had an energy efficient water heater that could run on the power supply you generated all through the year.

Either way, the cozy house was clean and well-furnished.

Jungkook looked around curiously, straying a little.

Yoongi stayed close to you.

“Not much to see. I put overstock food in the basement when I need to.”

Yoongi nodded, then got closer to you, seeming to ponder his words carefully. “Namjoon told you, scents and things.”

You felt a decently strong urge to start running. “Uh, yes. Did he tell you what I told him?”

He nodded, then rolled up his sleeve. He rubbed against certain parts of his wrist and arm, then held it out to you.

You blinked at him, confused beyond reason.

“Smell,” He said quietly.

You looked between him and his arm skeptically, then leaned forward and casually sniffed his wrist.

Then you sniffed again, because who the heck smelled like petrichor?!

Jungkook eagerly joined the two of you, offering you his wrist.

Jasmine.

Your weaknesses.

Yoongi gently pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You smell nice with us.”

You closed your eyes.

“Oranges?” Jungkook guessed, nuzzling up to your other side.

And oh, those sneaky fluff-butts.

And didn’t they know that there were zombies around.

But of course they could tell how you felt about all of this thanks to their superior sniffers.

Which was probably how you ended up kissing Jungkook while Yoongi kissed your neck.

All of you stopped at the sound of a particularly loud gunshot.

Shortly followed by two more shots that had all of you hurrying out to make sure everything was under control.

You carefully avoided them the rest of the afternoon, not entirely certain you trusted yourself around them and their stupid petrichor and jasmine which were your favorites. And they said you smelled like oranges and what did that even mean aside from Yoongi saying that you smelled good with them. Were oranges a desirable smell?

But whenever you passed by them, or were near, they found a way to lightly touch your arm, brush their hand against yours, rest their hand on the small of your back, tuck your hair away from your face and you totally didn’t end up kissing Yoongi when he went with you to feed the broody turkey.

And you both definitely wouldn’t have been overtaken by a zombie if Jungkook hadn’t conveniently come by and shot it.

Jungkook peppered you both with kisses, as though those would help calm you from the close call, and then pointed out that he had set out the jack-o-lanterns.

You stared at the glowing pumpkins and started laughing, because, of all the things to prioritize that day, with zombies all around…he made sure the jack-o-lanterns were put out.

So maybe when all of it was you were assigning watch duty for the night, you made sure those two would be with you, because you felt safe with them looking after you. Both of them had saved you.

“Lonely?” Yoongi whispered, staring up at the stars.

“No,” You whispered back, fingers running through Jungkook’s hair. But this time that was all you needed to say. It was enough.

“Good,” Jungkook sighed, giving a sort of rumble of approval and melting further against you as you gently scratched behind his ears, fluffy tail wrapping around him and eyes drifting shut.

There was a long trial ahead of you. Learning their language, fighting zombies, making sure there was enough food to eat, fighting zombies, caring for the livestock, fighting zombies, and exploring whatever this was with Yoongi and Jungkook. Maybe even convincing them to try and make it over to the hybrid town, just to try and initiate trade or something.

There were a lot of things to think about, and consider, questions to ask and have answered.

But in the glow of the three jack-o-lanterns, with soft smell of petrichor and jasmine surrounding you and the sounds of the others talking and laughing inside, you weren’t worried.

You weren’t lonely. “Not anymore.”

Zombie Apocalypse Masterpost

Tagging: @lost-xim, @bryophytas, @young-yellkie, @alex--awesome--22, @missmoxxiesworld, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck,

420 notes · View notes

whump-town · 4 years ago

Text

Red Fish, Blue Fish

This is for @genevievedarcygranger (i'm sorry you deserve better than whatever this is)

Hank chilling with Hotch but it's sad bc I don't know how to do happy

On Thursday Hank sits out on his front porch with his banana mushed in his right hand and his sippy cup in the other. He waits, as he does every Thursday, for the sound of Hotch’s old Jeep to pull into the driveway. The car doesn’t look like anything he’d drive but it’s one of the last things he has of Haley’s - the Jeep they bought together in Seattle. Her dream car. He drives it now for practicality and because as he gets older silly things make him sentimental. And he just loves this old car.

And Hank loves it even more.

Hank grows agitated - a deep feeling in his stomach making him just as upset as the mashed banana he now wants off his hands. Savannah steps out on the porch with him, having left knowing he’d stay put because he’d never miss Hotch pulling in for anything. She’s got a wash rag and drags the warmed cloth over his face and hands. Taking what’s left of the banana and tossing it into the grass for a bird to eat.

“Come on,” Savannah picks him up. “We gotta get you dressed.” Hank goes even if he’s a little confused. Every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as Hank can remember he’s spent the work day at Hotch’s. Occasionally, (if Hotch has a doctor’s appointment and when Jack has breaks from college) that planning gets mixed up and Hank doesn’t take it well. They come rarely because over the last three years Hotch just doesn’t schedule appointments for those days and Jack is nearly twenty-one and spends his breaks doing other things. Not hanging with his dad.

Hank realizes Hotch isn’t coming when Savannah starts to draw him a bath. He fights her even though he typically loves baths. “No mama,” he tries to push himself out of her arms. He wants to go back to the porch. Hotch can’t come unless Hank is down there to watch for him. “No mama no!” He cries when she’s triumphant and places him down in the tub. “Hops,” he reminds her with fat tears rolling his cheeks. “Hops comin’ mama. Hops.”

She washes the rest of the banana off of him, sighing, and trying not to get upset herself. “Hops isn’t coming baby.” He hadn’t come last week either but Hank had been too distracted by Uncle Spence making a surprise visit to notice. Which was entirely the point of Spencer coming on Hotch’s normally scheduled days. Savannah knew she wouldn’t be as lucky this week. Hank had noticed, he’d realized how long it had been since Hotch came around. And she’d still let him think Hotch was coming this morning. She needed the hour to gather herself, to call Derek, and be certain. To reassure herself of what’s happening.

Hank stops fighting her. His little shoulders drop and he sniffles pitfully as he lets her wash his body back off. “Not comin’?” he mumbles. Hotch always comes. He picks Hank up from DayCare early and they go to the park for ice cream. All it takes is one phone call and, even with other plans, Hotch will diverge his path to get Hank. How many lunches has Hank been to? Eating a banana muffin, seated on the ground, and leaning against Hotch’s leg while he and Emily talk over coffee in some dusty cafe’s bookstore. How many prestigious academy lectures? Laying on the floor and coloring while Hotch guest speaks in one of Reid’s classes.

Savannah stops and looks at her son. His little eyes are full of far too much sorrow for someone so small and typically full of such overwhelming joy. She wipes one of his tears and frowns when he sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his chubby fist. “We’re going to Hops’ house,” she tells him, “but you can’t see Hops. Not today, okay?” She cups his cheek, “Hops is sick.”

He didn’t tell anyone. Not Emily the Tuesday after he found out over their weekly coffee. He couldn’t. Not with Hank sitting in her lap and struggling to identify words he recognizes from One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Not when he’d dropped Hank off knowing the treatment plan he agreed to would probably mean he’d eventually be too sick to take Hank every week. But he couldn’t say it out loud and make it true.

Last Monday he arranged for Dave to pick him up from the hospital after the surgery the oncologist thought would be minimal and a successful measure to get the cancer out of his body. With its success chemo could eradicate the rest and Hotch would manage to get through the whole mess without anyone having known a thing - the best alternative, in his opinion.

But his heart never does well under the stress of anesthesia.

“Sick?” Hank repeats and he turns this over in his head. Sick. He knows what to do. He nods his head, “o’tay. Gonna help?”

Savannah stops and refrains from the truth which is that there’s nothing they can do. This is all Hotch and the doctors. They’re only going over to his house - you know, she doesn't even know why they’re going over there. Dave and Emily have taken up a semi-permanent residence. Garcia’s bringing food and with Garcia comes Reid because he won’t say no to food. Derek’s over to put up a bar in the shower and he’ll be sucked into staying for dinner and wants her there so he doesn’t have to be alone. With all their normal babysitters there, Hank has to come as well.

With a hesitant nod, Savannah agrees. “Yeah, baby, we’re gonna help.”

Hank packs a bag to keep himself entertained under the helpful guide of his mother. He refuses the books she wants him to take and informs her moodily that he wants Hops’ books and not trucks. He can’t read the books at Hotch’s house but Savannah caves and decides that’s a problem for later. With his little bag on his back, he leads Savannah to the bathroom. Asks for the bandaids - stickers, he calls them - under the understanding that ouchies and fevers are the same as whatever is wrong with Hops and a bandaid will help. Savannah lets him take three. They’re just bandaids and it’s not a big deal.

His bandaids in one hand and his sippy cup in the other, Hank lets his mother put him in the car seat with no complaint. He’s forgotten his mother’s statement about not seeing Hotch and grows eager, excited as they take the familiar turns to get to Hotch’s house.

Derek meets them outside, his tension apparent to Savannah. He’s upset and she gets out, leaving Hank in the car out of earshot while they talk softly outside. Derek wipes his eyes of the tears trying to boil over, frustrated with himself for being upset and Savannah rubs his arm. Comforting him where he almost wishes she’d pressure him to pull himself together. She pulls him into a hug, holding him for a moment while he struggles to get a hold of his emotions. He’s scared and it hurts to see Hotch like this but he can’t and he won’t leave the team here alone. It isn’t fair and they could all use a little of Hank’s magic right now.

But Hank could care less about any of them.

He wants one person and one person only.

“Hank!”

Hank Morgan has had four-years to understand what everyone else around him leans blindly into. There is no need to knock, no shout in warning as he runs for the door of his favorite person in the whole world. His father can’t understand it, no one really can, but Hank loves Hotch. And after two weeks of missed Thursdays with no playing in the garden and napping to the sound of nature documentaries voiced by people with weird accents Hank is eager. He’s blind, he’s desperate and despite his father’s tone of voice he still fully expects to throw the front door open and find Hotch.

“Hank -” Derek tries to grab his son by the shoulders and stop his rapid pace towards the house. But even on baby legs the second he’s placed down on the ground, he’s running. Derek needs to give him a warning for what lies ahead but Hanks is on a roll with his excitement leading the pack. He slips right past his dad giving an excited little shout as he goes. It takes him a second to get up the steps, his legs too short to just run straight up them.

But Hotch isn’t standing at the front door.

Uncle Dave meets him instead on the other side of the door and cocks an eyebrow that’s humorous and light despite the way that the dimly lit living room strangles any chance at a good mood. “Where are you running off to short stack?” He’s not given a chance to answer as he’s lifted up, smothered in affections that he only pays half a mind.

Hank lets them kiss at his face. He limply goes into Spencer’s arms and just holds still while the genius squeezes the life out of him. Not even a single comment when Penelope has to brush tears from her eyes to accept him into her arms. He goes from person to person, answering their silly questions and sitting still with the understanding that he’ll end up with who he wants. He gets to Emily though and there is no Hops sitting beside her. No grumbling Hank has grown accustomed to hearing when the two of them are in the same room.

“Want Hops,” he tells Emily softly because if anyone can tell him where to find his rogue friend it’s Emily. In the way that he knows his mom is always with his dad, that Uncle Spence and Penny arrive in the same car, he knows that, typically, where Emily is there will eventually be a Hotch.

Emily smiles - a smile where her sadness is far better hidden than any of the others - and takes on a teasing tone. “Silly old Hops is taking a nap, ” she tells him with a shake of her head. She redirects him, hopes to distract him. “So, why don’t we go get a snack instead? Penny brought cookies and I think Hops has popsicles.” She kisses his forehead and stands, pulling him along with her. “What’re you thinking? Red popsicle?”

Hank turns over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the living room. He spots Hotch’s room, the door closed and the lights off. There he is, Hank knows. He’s in his room.

“Look—” Emily squeezes him, jerks his attention to the open freezer. “You want a squeeze?” She points to the box of GoGo squeez applesauce. The ones Hotch always keeps on hand for Hank. Typically, he can’t refuse them but Hank isn’t bothered with them. Emily sighs, “alright. Here, let me put you down. We’ll see what he has in the cabinets.” The second that Hank is on the ground he’s walking away. Leaving Emily in the kitchen trying to decide if these smiling gummies are half as good as they look.

Hank goes back to Hotch’s office, fingers trailing down the wall as he goes. He’s heading for the books he knows are for him on the lower shelf. He does take a moment to touch the covers of some of the larger books, ones he can only barely reach. Hotch steers him away from them but Hank likes their deep colors and their golden designs. It only makes him more curious as to what lies inside them. Mostly, he just wants to understand. That curiosity he has to know everything he can about the people around him. How his dad works with a hammer - he’s so strong it’s crazy. What Uncle Dave does with all the foods he puts in the pots and how it ends up tasting so good. And, more than anything else, what’s in these damn books.

Hank has his own shelf full of books that were once Jack’s and others that are a collection of books Hank has left here and ones that Hotch buys him when they go to bookstores. Hank decides on Dr. Seus a yellow book with fish - he has a hard time with the color yellow and as he pulls it down to take it to Hotch he’s excited to inform Hotch on it’s color. Though, he thinks it’s green.

It’s not hard to manage to get back to Hotch’s room, no one’s paying him any attention. Penelope is crying again and Savannah is rubbing Derek’s back, all of them listening to Dave talk somberly. They’re odd, Hank thinks, but that’s okay.

He pushes Hotch’s bedroom door open and is disheartened to find it so dark. No matter how many times Derek assures him there’s nothing in the dark and no matter how many times he’s taken a nap in this very room… he’s scared. Hesitantly, Hank steps into the dark back still close to safety. “Hops?” he asks softly. He can see something move on the bed, the hiss of something softly trailing through the room. Something beeps and it makes him jump and Hank bolts for the side of the bed. Running blindly to the side he thinks Hotch is at.

“Hops,” Hank frantically sweeps his arm over the side. He’s just a little too small to make it up the side by himself but he tries frantically. “Up Hops.”

Hotch coughs, squinting into the dark. He’d heard the door open - removed from himself in a distinctly drugged kind of way. In the back of his mind, the seemingly only alert part of him, assumed it was Dave back with more pills to swallow. Tiny fingers grab his wrist and Hank’s pleading, his fear, cuts through the fog idly. Hotch is pleasantly surprised to find Hank - afterall, he’d been more alert this morning enough to try and fight Dave over his typical day. Dave had been right though, Hotch isn’t well enough to watch after a toddler. Hank hits his side and the world brightens, pulled to focus by sharp pain that steals his breath.

“Please,” Hank cries. “Hops?”

Hotch can’t pull himself upright but he can vaguely make out Hank by his side. Little fingers holding onto the blanket. “Easy, ” Hotch whispers. He offers Hank his hand, grunting when the toddler quickly attaches himself to it. He’s sniffling, still crying as he grunts and struggles to climb up the side of Hotch's bed. His legs are a little too short but he makes up for it with determination. “Almost there, ” Hotch praises, moving his hand and giving the back of Hank’s pants a little pull to get him the rest of the way up.

Hank melts straight into him. Pushing his face into Hotch’s side and holding him, both arms around Hotch’s chest and holding tight. Hotch places his hand on Hank's back, rubbing it until his little sobs die down. “What are you crying for?” Hotch holds him close, ignoring the dull ache across his chest. After being stuck in this room, drugged and laying in the dark, he needs all the help he can get. He needs Hank with all his little questions and his snacks.

Hank calms down, sniffling sadly as he pops back up and rubs at his eyes. He looks down at Hotch, taking in this new situation. There’s a tube snaking around him and Hank can’t tell where it goes in or if it does but he frowns because he knows it must hurt and he doesn’t like that. Even the canal running Hotch’s nose. Gently Hank leans forward and touches it, frowning. “Hurts?”

Hotch shakes his head, “no. It doesn’t hurt.”

With a grunt, Hank adamantly accepts this. Hotch doesn’t lie so Hank trusts him but… it looks like it hurts. Hank leans against Hotch’s chest, curled up facing him. “You takin’ nap?” Hank asks.

Hotch nods his head, “something like that…” He keeps one hand on Hank, keeping the boy from getting too excited and rolling off the bed. Hank settles down close to him, scooting as close as he can. Half sitting on Hotch’s left side facing him. Hotch reaches up, ignoring the pull of his muscles, to place his palm to Hank’s face. “You gonna lay down with me?”

Hank grins and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh!” He pulls out his book, setting it down on Hotch’s chest. He scoots himself along the side of the bed, all clumsy baby movements, until he can move Hotch’s arm around him and lean against Hotch’s side. Putting his back against Hotch and laying his head on Hotch’s shoulder. Pulling his hand around him and into his lap. “Read?” he asks, cracking the book open and showing Hotch the page.

He hasn’t got a lot of energy, feels himself slipping with the simple strain of talking and watching Hank move in the dark of the room. He’s ashamed to admit, to even think, that he can’t sit up and hunt down his reading glasses and get through a simple children's book. Not even with Hank twisting around to look up at him like that. “You know the words, buddy.” Hotch has read it to him so many times and Derek even more. He gets a kick out of saying the words before them, and knows what each page says. “Why don't you read it to me?”

Hank frowns, looking at the book, and back at Hotch. He wants to read the book but he doesn’t know how. “You’ll help?”

Hotch smiles and nods, “of course I will.”

Hank settles back down and opens the book. The room isn’t really bright enough but Hank can see the page well enough. He skips the first page. There are big words and not enough pictures. “One fish,” Hank touches each fish as he goes. “Two fishes. Red fish and blue fish.” He looks back to Hotch and he nods, he’s right. “Black fish and blue fish and old fish and baby fish and green--”

“Yellow,” Hotch corrects softly. It’s not important that he’s getting the words wrong so much as the color. “It’s a yellow fish, see?”

Hank nods and repeats after Hotch. “Yellow fish and fish with a car.” He flips the page and lays his head down on Hotch’s side, curling up closer. He sits up, “can I have blankets?”

Hotch nods and Hank cheers softly and sits up. It takes him a moment but he scurries down beside Hotch, tugging the blanket up around him. “Comfortable,” Hotch asks and Hank frowns, trying to figure that out. It takes him another moment and Hank knows what it is - he sits up and pulls Hotch’s arm around him. Letting him lean back and he nods. It makes Hotch laugh a little, smirking. “Good.”

Hank lays his head back down on Hotch’s side and opens the book.

Derek finds them ten minutes later. Hank is just looking at the pictures, humming softly to himself as he traces the fish with his finger. Hotch is asleep, breathing not sounding any better than it had before but the room feels brighter. Things not so dense.

"I wondered where you ran off to," Derek whispers as he steps in.

Hank looks up from his book, "found Hops."

Derek nods, "yeah, I see that." He won't move Hank just yet. It's as calm as Hotch has been since he came home and Hank is being good. It keeps both trouble makers out of everyone's hair. "Will you watch him for me?" Derek asks playfully. "Seems like you're doing a good job."

Hank nods, attention going back to his book. "Yeah, I'm watchin'."

Derek leans over the bed and kisses Hank's head. Stopping for a moment and just looking at Hotch. His face pale and his breathing still not right.

"Hops is okay, daddy."

Derek clears his throat and nods. As he's walking out he hears Hank start the book over. His soft voice reading out, "one fish, two fish--"

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hank morgan #derek morgan #savannah morgan #emily prentiss #david rossi

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years ago

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Kingslayer AU: Chapter Ten

Is this chapter ten? How far we have come. This feels like a milestone! I’ve been working on this AU since JUNE!

This is the most dedicated I have ever been to something. It came with me across seven states and three houses. I am honestly surprised we’ve made it to this point with the amount of stuff going on. Alas here we are!!

Apologies for the rambling, I’m in a celebratory mood. Anyways, savor this one because it gets rough from here on out.

“MAJOR!?” A shout came from outside, followed by the doors of Dogwarts slamming shut. The birds roosting in the gutters all flew the coop as the walls of Renchanting shook.

“I can still try to get you out the back,” Martyn offered, but Scott just shook his head and blinked in resignation.

If this was how he was going out, so be it. Too late to run.

The door to the enchantment room flew open, almost flattening Skizzle against the wall on its way. In the open door stood a livid Etho. His face was scrunched up and beet red under his mask. All eyes in the room knowingly turned to Scott who did his best not to shrink into his chair.

“Hey-“ he started, but was quickly stopped by a gloved hand seizing his collar and pulling him to his feet.

“You told Scar to burn down my house?!” Etho screamed in his face, shaking him back and forth as he hurled invectives at him.

“Now- now hold- on-n,” Scott stammered out as he began to go dizzy.

“Put him down Etho, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to shake a baby,” Ren ordered from the corner of the room where he was reading a book.

Etho stopped and let go of Scott, who went straight to the ground with a heavy thump.

“I didn’t tell him to burn down your house,” Scott rubbed his head, “I said it’s conveniently flammable, which it is” he said from his place on the floor.

“And that’s somehow different? I had all my crap in there Scott! I don’t care if you said it because you’re pretending to be their friend, you almost made me loose everything,” Etho argued down at the other.

“Maybe your house shouldn’t be made of mostly wool,” the other said under his breath.

“Can someone back me up,” Scott requested to the other three people in the room.

“No,” everyone said at once.

Scott sighed, “I’ll make it up to you,” he stood up, a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah you will. By getting back everything I lost. I’ll have the list ready by nightfall so you can have an early start,” Etho shoved a finger at Scott’s chest-plate.

“Now excuse me, I’m going to go blow up the Red Desert,” he said.

Then he left and the room was silent.

“I’m gonna,” Impulse pointed after Etho, and Ren nodded sympathetically. He followed the other out of Dogwarts.

Scott leaned his head against the wall and sighed. Martyn pat him on the back, and he took it as his signal to leave. It was dangerous being there during the day in the first place, so he made a point to be fast on the way down the hill and was well on his way to the flower forest when someone tackled him from the side.

He screamed, mostly in surprise, but also in pain when he was thrown to the ground for the second time that day. After rolling around in a ball of limbs, Scott managed to identify his attacker.

“Tango what is wrong with you?!” He shouted, pushing the other away.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?!” Tango had a hand poised to bring down on Scott’s face.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are? You told Scar to burn down Etho’s house?” His eyes were fiery with rage.

“I- I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t think he would actually do it. I was joking,” Scott pleaded.

“Do you ever think?” Tango shouted.

Scott didn’t nod his head. He didn’t shake it either.

Tango dropped Scott’s collar and sat back on his haunches, freeing the other who sat up on his elbows.

Scott crawled over and sat next to him.

“Etho was in the house when he did it,” Tango recounted, “I had to stomp the fire out with him. Scar nearly got me found out; and that would have been the end of it,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

“Scar knows you’re a spy?” Scott asked.

“Only for him. He doesn’t know about you or Impulse,” the other assured. Which was good, because the less Scar knew the less he would run his mouth about it.

Apparently Scar masqueraded the arson as revenge for Pizza, but admitted it wasn’t entirely his idea and that’s how Etho and Tango found out about Scott’s joke.

“I was originally coming over here to make sure he wouldn’t kill you,” Tango admitted in reference to Etho.

“I’m touched,” Scott responded dryly.

Tango shot him a glare, “I mean it; but I still think you’re a piece of work,” he said.

“I think you’re a piece of work back,” Scott responded, but he noticed that this time they were both smiling.

The two of them sat in silence, listening to the bird songs under the broken light falling through the forest’s canopy.

“I should go. I wanna take a nap before having to go restock Etho’s base for the rest of the night,” Scott said and pushed himself off the ground, holding out a hand for Tango.

The other took it and pulled himself up.

“You know what, meet me at the farm tonight and we’ll go together. Maybe we’ll make it home before sunrise?” Tango held his hand out.

Scott shook it, nodding.

Tango pat him on the back before they went their separate ways.

Etho’s things were replenished and back in his base by the time he returned in the morning to clean up.

#i still don’t know what time these posts actually go up #whatever #kingslayer au #god who tf is even in this 1 #scott smajor #rendog #inthelittlewood #ethoslab #skizzleman #impulsesv #is that it??? yeah methinks.#3rdlife smp #3rd life smp #3rdlife #mcyt #cas types

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vvildflowerrr · 2 years ago

Text

⛤🍃🫀🌿welcome to my blog!🌿🫀🍃⛤

(03/30/24 - read while u can i plan to delete a lot of this soon, the internet is a shitty place)

name - Wil (short for Willow!)

age - 24

gender - fluid (they/he and sometimes she)

orientation - poly, queer, sapphic, fluid

- ⛤ -

about me:

I'm here to shitpost and look at pretty things, and hopefully find interesting spiritual anecdotes from other folks too! this blog has turned into - mostly - a collection of information to pair with my real life studies into esoteric knowledge and my personal religious/spiritual path. I also vent on here at times in the form of prose usually, but sometimes just screaming :) lol

I'm currently studying a form of Feral Druidry with some guidance from my former roomie/my good friend, who is a Druid Priest, as well as taking online courses! I started my spiritual path with An Mórrígan from the Irish pantheon. I studied Heathenry for awhile to connect with Hel, whom I still love and work with even if I've shifted in my path more. I incorporate some practice from Cultus Deorum/Roman paganism because I connected with Venus as well last year during Yule! Past those three, who I work with loosely, I also work with the concept of "The Wild" as an overarching theme, they are all the unexplainable energies in my life and push me to challenge myself as much as the Goddess figureheads I love do <3

You'll often find me writing miscellaneous bullshit and putting a melody to it in my feeble attempts at making music. ( check out my youtube channel here: https://youtube.com/@willowcrowluxx )

I have two cats! one is a shorthaired blonde tailless boy named Nubbin, and then a longhaired black, poofy tailed baby named Binx!

I'm currently in therapy working through ptsd stuff etc, so you will definitely see me get emo on the dashboard every now and again. my apologies in advance.

you can find all of my spiritual content under my personal tag: #anmorheljave

- ⛤ -

interests:

(things I like and look for on this lovely little hellsite)

skyrim - I just started playing in 2022 and have such a deep love for this game. I finally defeated Alduin! And am now spending time going through all the other questlines and digging deeper into the lore!

queer stuff - I'm some flavor of gay, a fluid nonbinary person questioning being transmasc, figuring it out! but have done my fair share of discourse in the past, not down for that now lol 🙃 queer people are beautiful and wonderful however they identify in good faith <3

music - I have an eclectic taste in music and am always seeking more! and also want to make music for a living in my future :) some faves are: tash sultana, vernon jane, ocean alley, halsey, ethel cain, IDLES, fleetwood mac, hozier, paramore, alanis morissette, janis joplin, amy winehouse, nirvana, alice in chains, brown bird, queens of the stone age, ¡mayday!, lights, bring me the horizon, ghostmane, $uicideboy$, mother mother, tame impala, rainbow kitten surprise, pvris

nature - I find a lot of peace in nature and find a lot of my next steps while hanging out within it. also it's beautiful so I like finding aesthetically pleasing media for it :')

psychology and self-help - I'm a mess lmao, better to learn the whys and how I can improve as a human!

spirituality, paganism etc.

dungeons & dragons - just a big time fantasy nerd

anime - I love one piece, soul eater, sonny boy, chainsaw man, trigun, and others✨

horizon: zero dawn - I started playing this game in 2023 and fell IN LOVE with the world, the story, everything. plus I will always have the hots for femmes who use bows and arrows 🥹<3 I can't wait to play Forbidden West!

percy jackson universe - currently rereading PJO and HoO, have been reading these since I wars 9 and very excited for new book and show!

youtube - I watch julien solomita, markiplier, ethan nestor, strange æons, dan & phil, kurtis conner, jarvis johnson, chad chad, gabi belle, eddy burback, ted nivison, and various other video essays I find on interesting topics :)

- ⛤ -

if you want to know about my music taste, here's a hellishly long playlist with all my faves :)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KzaesbV2ESDKI8AB3cfQC?si=muKOSyjMTaWUDb4SWrfPqw

- ⛤ -

sideblogs

@thatferalbogdruid - spirituality & paganism

i hope you enjoy your time here!🌿🫀🍃

- ⛤ -

Anmórheljave.

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lovelyirony · 4 years ago

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Moony-Eyed

@bironfam i hope this is okay!

Tony didn’t think that their new astronaut was going to be anything special.

Well.

That’s a lie.

You kind of have to be special if you’re going to be an astronaut for NASA. You have to keep your cool, have good eyesight, and be okay with the possibility of dying. Maybe. Maybe you have to be cool with that.

Tony is rather good at his job. From revolutionizing how space suits are made to making the functions of the ship easier to manage, Tony is NASA’s secret weapon, the handyman of all handymen.

He’s usually squirreled away in his workshop, at his apartment that he honestly needs to clean far more than he does, or arguing with Potts about why he needs eight different coffee mugs.

They know him as a guy who doesn’t exactly give a rat’s ass about the chain of command, or dress code.

“You can’t fire me,” he had told Happy, after he had tried once again to stop Tony from entering areas containing sensitive information in sweatpants and a sweatshirt that proclaimed him the “MIT class of 1992.”

Tony is good at his job, nearly too good. He likes it that way.

But back to the astronaut.

Danvers had taken leave to take care of her family, and honestly? Space usually isn’t a lifetime event for astronauts. You see too much of it, you need time away. A lot of time away.

Pepper is giddy. She loved Carol, but Carol was happily married with a baby girl, and this one? This one wasn’t.

Not that Pepper was looking for anyone. No, she and her partner Nat had standing date nights every Saturday evening, and she loved them too much to even think about anything else.

But Tony? Tony needed someone. He never really dated anybody, at least not anybody that he genuinely liked.

Stark was a powerful name, and it got tossed around a little bit, but Tony mostly kept to himself and only responded to it when he was at a party or Happy was mad at him for forgetting his ID badge yet again.

James Rhodes was a nicely built man with a strong, confident aura, and single.

(Pepper had checked.)

She thought that he and Tony would get along quite well, if anything.

James is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He’d rather just get to work on what he needs to do. Getting into the air is one of the best feelings, and the sooner he can experience it, the sooner he’ll be fine.

He always pushed the limits, and space is just the last limit he gets to push. He’s excited. He’s always wanted to work for NASA, be on their roster of astronauts. He wants little kids who identify with him to know that they can do it too.

So he’s ready to work with the best and brightest of their era.

“Where the fuck are my nachos?!”

His head whips around to a man who is wearing an ill-fitting cardigan (that is most likely not his), old jeans that have what look to be equations written on one thigh, and glasses that are most definitely broken sitting at an angle.

“Your nachos were too close to the computers,” one woman says without looking up. “Stop bringing nachos here or I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“You can’t kill me,” the man retorts.

“Tony,” comes another voice. James turns and sees who must be Pepper Potts. “Go to your office. Now. Change your pants, you wrote on them again.”

“I did?”

He looks down and swears.

“Son of a bitch!” He then looks at Jim. “Wait, who are you? Are you the new astronaut?”

“Uh, yes? I’m James.”

He sticks out his hand.

Who seems to be Tony stares at his hand.

“Your name is seriously James?”

“Do you think I’m bad at jokes?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

Tony grins.

“No, I think you’re gonna be a riot. But I’m not calling you James.”

“Jim, then.”

“No,” Tony says. “You’re not an old man, you’re still attractive.”

His eyebrows raise.

Tony’s face pales.

“I’m going to. Go. I have math on my pants.”

Pepper snorts, readjusting her grip on her clipboard.

“Welcome to NASA, Colonel Rhodes. I can promise you that we don’t usually yell about our lunch location or write on articles of clothing.”

Surprisingly, James doesn’t see Tony for two weeks. Apparently, he’s been working outside with a couple of the interns to calculate some stuff, rework some of the older ships for experience, and stay out of the way of Pepper, who says that he’s attempting to murder her via headaches to deal with.

He seems interesting, however. There are sticky notes and papers all over the offices and breakrooms reminding people of what Tony had for breakfast/lunch/dinner, or where the extra coffee supplies are.

“You provide for him?” he asks Pepper one time.

“He gets too much into his own head sometimes,” Pepper says. “He focuses too much on a program or an improvement and forgets that he works around other people. You wouldn’t believe how many times we had miniature science experiments based off of lunches that he would leave in the fridge.”

Rhodes nods. “Well. I’ll look forward to working with him.”

Tony has been working outside of the office for two reasons:

1.) To legitimately help the interns. (Ned and Peter are making improvements!)

2.) James Rhodes is the hottest guy on earth. Maybe in the universe. For real. Seriously.

He hates Pepper for this. Didn’t even tell Tony what the new astronaut looked like, and then shows up with a god of a man. Rude and unfair.

And he had to be the dumbass with the equation on his pants.

He didn’t even have spare pants! He had to stay in his office for the whole day because the equation was actually really important and he needed it.

“Why didn’t you just transfer it over on paper?” Bruce asks over the phone. Bruce is his friend who works in a technically classified, off-the-books, not-exactly-government-issued building. He’s cool. He also points out the obvious.

“I’m the biggest idiot on the planet,” Tony groans. “There was just a new guy at work, and he threw me off balance, so-”

“What’s he look like?”

“Why, you not crushing on that hot Nordic space dude?”

“No, still am. But I still remember when Barton came to work for you guys and you didn’t know that his name wasn’t George until about six months into him working there.”

“In my defense, he works mostly with physical therapy and prep for no gravity,” Tony says. “I work with math and shit.”

“Still,” Bruce says. “You wouldn’t have pointed him out if you didn’t think he was cute. What’s he like?”

“I...don’t exactly know.”

“Oh my god, you’ve been avoiding him?”

“Oh what, like you didn’t jump out of a window when Thor almost saw you in a tank top?”

“I have a farmer’s tan! Totally different circumstance!”

“Is it?”

“I hate you.”

“Get to dating Thor and then we’ll talk again. Have fun re-revolutionizing green energy, Dr. Banner.”

“Look to the stars, Tony.”

James has to get fitted for his suit.

He faces Tony, who looks quite different from when he first saw him. His hair is somewhat less messy, he has one of those geeky NASA-logo shirts that they sell at Target, and is wearing khaki pants with about a million different pockets.

(Something in his mind is whispering that he definitely shouldn’t find him attractive. But he will anyways.)

“Alright space-cowboy, let’s get your measurements,” Tony says. “You feeling okay today?”

“Right as rain.”

“Rain is never good, sunshine,” Tony quips. “Now, about your nickname from me...hm. Rhodey.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Substituted the ‘s’ for a ‘y’, just simple stuff,” he says with a shrug. “You approve?”

“I...guess.”

“Good. Now Rhodey, how are you feeling?”

“Like sunshine and gumdrops,” he responds sarcastically.

Tony smiles, and damn if it makes his heart thump a bit.

“Better answer, soldier. Extend those arms, please.”

Tony smells really nice. Subtle cologne and clean laundry. Rhodey finds that he likes it.

“How’ve you been doing, Tony?”

“Like a gentle breeze on a day that’s seventy-two degrees,” Tony answers. “Work’s been good today. Helen made tacos.”

“I had some of those, they were pretty good.”

“Mm,” Tony answers. “Legs a bit more apart, thank you.”

Rhodey shifts his stance a little bit, carefully not watching Tony bend down just a tad to get the bottom of his foot.

(But oof, that was hard.)

Tony comes back up again, looking into Rhodey’s eyes. For a moment, for a brief moment, his breath is taken away.

“I need to wrap my measuring tape around your waist. You okay with that?”

“More than.”

“Don’t get saucy,” Tony winks. “No one likes more than one floozy at the office, and that’s what got me this job anyways.”

Rhodey lets out a laugh, and Tony grins.

He likes making him laugh. Likes it more than he should.

They spend more and more time together. Tony always makes adjustments, Rhodey realizes that Tony doesn’t exactly keep track of when he eats, so they have lunch together.

They like it a lot.

On good-weather days, they eat outside on a bench. Tony leans against one said, foot brushing Rhodey’s calf, and Rhodey doesn’t really mind because he’ll lean over occasionally and steal whatever Tony’s eating.

“This is theft, you know.”

“You eat like a bird, what do you know about food theft?”

Tony almost always stays later than anyone else except for nights with Rhodey.

Once a month, they have dinner together. Rhodey’s new to the area and Tony’s almost never social with anyone, so they’ve been working through a list of the three-star-rated restaurants and seeing which ones they like.

“It’s kind of like a date,” Pepper says, on her monthly hangout with Tony (and also kind of a clean-up party for his house).

“Not dates,” Tony says. “Just friends. I’m sure he has his eye on someone in or out of the office.”

“Like you?”

“His first impression of me was me writing an equation on my pair of jeans, and then I haven’t exactly upgraded my style since,” Tony deadpans. “He’s seen me in neon orange sweatpants, Pep. You don’t exactly come back from that.”

“Maybe he likes you for who you are!”

“God that’s such a bullshit answer,” Tony whines. “You sound like a straight-to-video movie that came out in 1997!”

“That’s too specific.”

“And? You still get the point!”

Pepper flings a pillow his way.

“Where is your wine?”

“In the same cabinet you always leave it.”

“Goody.”

While Pepper sways to bed, Tony thinks about what she said.

It could be possible. Tony had never exactly asked him about himself in that capacity, but Rhodey never had an odd reaction to a statement that involved talking about a partner of the same-sex or a one-liner about it.

Maybe?

...no.

Guys like Rhodey deserved someone better than someone who forgot to eat lunch four out of the seven days of the week. (And maybe four was being generous.)

On the flipside, Rhodey was currently telling his woes to Carol, who was laughing at him.

“You nerd!” she says. “You like Tony, and you’ve done nothing about it? Have you even told him that you also like guys? Cuffed your pants?”

“No,” Rhodey says. “I just...why would he like someone like me? I’m...boring.”

“You’re not boring,” Carol says.

“Yeah you are!” Maria calls from the kitchen. “You’re very boring, Mr. ‘Only-Drinks-Black-Coffee’!”

Carol giggles.

“Maybe Maria has a point. Maybe.”

Rhodey groans, leaning against the couch.

“I’m so fucked.”

“On the contrary-”

“Oh shut up.”

Pepper is tired of people’s problems. They’re getting closer and closer to launch, and Clint’s out sick and Helen is being weird again, and Jane is off somewhere to a secret government-but-not-government launch to discuss things with two potential boyfriends. (Maybe boyfriends. Maybe.)

Tony is getting stressed.

Usually, he’s the only one who’s fine during a launch. He’s still cracking jokes, making fun events, and calming down people who are a bit too nervous.

But usually, he’s not as close to the astronaut as this.

He’s been thinking about the accidents they’ve had over the years. He doesn’t want a repeat. He’s been pulling all-nighters, avoiding sleep, and checking in on Rhodey consistently, to the point where Rhodey has to drag him outside and tell him that things will be fine.

(In Pepper’s professional opinion, they’d be fine if they just did a goodbye kiss or whatever, but okay.)

Tony’s getting into his own head.

So is Rhodey.

He’s going to be gone for a long time. He’s going to miss the holidays. And Tony won’t be able to talk to him everyday.

“You should tell him,” Pepper murmurs. “I think you both would benefit from it.”

“I’m not going to play that unfair card,” Rhodey murmurs back. “I either confess my love and go to a dangerous mission knowing that he loves me back and I said it when I can’t return, or he doesn’t and I just played a guilt-trip card.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

Rhodey shakes his head.

“I...I can’t do that to him. Wouldn’t be right. After the mission.”

“After, then,” Pepper says. “When you come home.”

Rhodey grins.

The day of launch happens far quicker than anyone wants it to, most of all Tony.

Pepper actually kicked him out of his office, told him to shower, and wear something nice for once.

“Make sure he knows he has someone to come home to,” Pepper says. “Wear your turtleneck!”

“It’s only September,” Tony scowls. “And he’s his own person who’s about to launch himself into space.”

“He will be fine,” Pepper says. “With your research and work, we’ve cut down overlooked mistakes by about forty percent.”

“Still not half.”

“Because we’re NASA,” Pepper sniffs. “Our mistakes matter more, so we make less of them.”

Tony nods.

He ends up almost being late to the launch because of Pepper’s stupid wardrobe advice.

He’s wearing his nicest pair of pants, a button-up that’s been at the back of his closet for quite some time, and he’s feeling stupid because he had to play AC/DC in the car so he would actually focus on what was going on.

Now he’s waiting for Rhodey to exit wearing the space suit that he made and to tell everyone that it was an honor and a privilege to be going to space where things happen and Tony can’t be there to help.

Life sucks.

But it goes on, and there’s Rhodey in the brilliantly-designed suit, and Tony’s never been more proud and more sad, but he sucks up his tears and walks up anyways.

“Hey space-cowboy. Ready to explore the frontier?”

“As ever,” Rhodey says. “You ready to forget to eat your lunch all over again?”

Tony smiles.

“You’ll have to check in with me soon, then,” Tony says. “Cut the mission short?”

Rhodey laughs.

“Wish I could. But I’ll send you pictures,” he says. “I promise.”

Tony stops for a moment, smile dropping from his face.

“Promise me one more thing.”

“Anything,” Rhodey says. “Anything you want.”

“Come back safe. Swear to me that you will.”

Rhodey grins.

“Safe and sound, honey. Safe and sound.”

Tony watches him board the ship, wave to the cameras, and wink at him.

He rolls his eyes, but blows a kiss anyways.

Tony’s a nervous wreck.

Pepper has decided that Rhodey needs to not go on missions anymore, or at least take Tony with him because he’s annoying.

“Can you stop crying on the second floor bathroom? It’s getting annoying,” Pepper says. “Clint says he can hear you and feels bad.”

“Well how are we supposed to know that Rhodey’s okay?!” Tony says. “For all I know, he could be dead!”

“I really hope you don’t mean that,” comes a voice from behind.

Tony whips around, seeing Rhodey’s grainy face from the big screen.

“You bitch!”

He laughs, and it doesn’t sound real, but he can see him.

“Hey Tony. You been making sure no one is pissed at you for forgetting your dinner in the fridge?”

“Well, now I will,” he admits. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Rhodey smiles. “How’s everything been down there?”

“Boring,” Tony says. “When are you coming back?”

“I got about two more months,” Rhodey says. “And then I’ll be back.”

“Quit hogging all the screen time,” Natasha teases. “You lovebirds can have your moment on earth.”

Tony blinks.

“What.”

But by that time, Natasha and Sam have already been asking a million questions, and Pepper is filling Rhodey in on what he’s missed.

Tony is still stuck on the whole ‘lovebirds’ thing that Natasha suggested.

...that couldn’t be possible. And yet if other people saw it that way...

“Tony? Tony?”

He blinks again, looking back up at the screen.

Rhodey is smiling at him, that smile that means that he’s happy to see someone.

“I’ll see you soon, honey.”

“Right back at you, space-cowboy.”

The screen goes to black, and Tony smiles a bit.

“Aw, you nerd,” Clint teases. “So, you gonna ask him out on a date?”

“Clint, I will cut off your leg,” Tony says cheerily. “I have to go finish some paperwork!”

Tony’s done all of his paperwork, it’s one of the few times that Pepper’s had it done on time.

He has to keep doing things to stop thinking about Rhodey.

He writes him letters. He knows that he won’t ever read them, but writing letters helps and sometimes it makes his hands less jittery.

He’s not ever going to send them. Ever. Letters are cheesy and they feel...personal.

Pepper tells him that he’s being lame.

“I’m not being lame!” Tony cries. “I am just. Protecting myself!”

“You have the reasoning of a Jane Austen love interest,” she says flatly. “I swear if you don’t tell him, then I’ll meddle. And you know how bad I am when I meddle.”

“You literally have made things so much worse for so many people,” Tony responds.

“Not worse, per se.”

“Oh right, how could I forget?” Tony exclaims sarcastically. “You made things the worst.”

“If we weren’t such good friends, you’d be dead,” Pepper says.

“Then let’s be worst enemies,” Tony mutters. “You still ready for pizza night?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Pepper says. “Meet at your place at seven, right?”

“Right.”

Here is what Tony does not know: Rhodey’s coming back down earlier than expected, and Pepper knows this.

So she’s been busying Tony with work while she’s acclimating Rhodey to life on earth again.

“Has he really missed me?” Rhodey asks for about the twentieth time in about two hours.

“Yes,” Pepper says. “I hope these aren’t your talking points for your interviews. If people know you’re this much of a love-struck idiot in real life, they won’t take you seriously.”

“I just missed him!”

“Oh sure,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “And I’m sure you’ll tell the news reporters that you missed me with as many stars in your eyes as now. You like him, you absolute geek.”

“Well, maybe a little,” Rhodey mutters. “But you’re sure he’ll like the surprise?”

“One hundred percent.”

Tony is having, perhaps, the worst day in his life. Maybe in history, if he’s being quite honest.

His car, for one thing, won’t start for more than is done-away-with concern, so he has to call Pepper and say that he’s going to be late since he has to fix his own car.

“Will you get coffee on the way here?” Pepper asks.

“Your usual order?”

“Yeah, you know the drill.”

Then the line is long because some stupid person wanted to complain, and Tony was this close to just threatening to buy the entire store to make it stop, and he cried on his way to work because he saw a duck cross the road and it reminded him of how Rhodey crashed his first car avoiding a duck that was crossing the road.

Yeah. It’s rough.

Then he parks in the wrong parking spot because some asshole with a stupid rental car took his usual spot, and then he stepped in a puddle.

He hates today.

“Pepper!” he declares as he enters the building. “I wore jeans today, I got your coffee, and I’m already done with the day. I swear to god if one more unexpected thing happens, I’ll just say ‘fuck it’ and go work for the Soviets!”

“The Soviets aren’t a thing, Tones.”

He knows that voice.

He fucking knows that voice. He isn’t supposed to be back from that mission for another month.

Tony doesn’t turn around.

“I’m hallucinating. Oh my god, I’m hallucinating.”

Hands wrap around his neck, hugging him.

“This feel like a hallucination?”

(Okay so Tony drops the coffee.)

Rhodey’s smile is blinding, and he’s...he’s here. Right in front of him with those not-supposed-to-be-that-hot polo shirts, those eyes that he could get lost in, and just...

Well.

He hugs him and he hugs him tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back so soon?!”

“Pepper organized it,” Rhodey says, giddy. “Decided it would be a nice surprise for you.”

Tony looks over at Pepper, who’s trying to hide a grin behind her hands.

“Pepper if I wasn’t so over-the-moon right now, your heels would be snapped.”

She shrugs.

“Worth it. You requested today off, by the way.” She winks as she turns back to her office.

“Well, what do you say?” Rhodey asked. “Help me get used to having my feet back on the ground?”

Tony grins.

“Dinner sounds like a good start. Gotta get you some good earth food, none of that dehydrated crap.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a decent slice of pizza?”

Tony grins.

“I can fix that.”

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