#damnit i forgot to color in some of the lines here

[iamthe-walnut]

My Lute redesign

I think her canon design is fine? But still, like what I said in my Adam redesign post, why do the angels look demonic?

I assume that all exorcists are based on Adam's look, especially the mask so yeah that looks similar. Since I think her canon design is already fine, I basically made this into a mix of canon and a sexy crusader lol. I changed her eyes to purple so that it contrasts with Adam's yellow ones (and also because I wanted her to look more goth).

In terms of characterization, I think she's also fine I'm just changing that fact that she doesn't swear anymore. She polices Adam alot with his own swearing. Lute just kinda seems disgusted with the thought of hell in general so I'm pushing it a little bit further with some religious righteousness to mask her disgust. Believing that everything she does is for the greatest good.

Anyway, love her relationship with Adam, it was refreshing to see this kind of dynamic and I wish we got more of it😔

[ronearoundblindly]

The Things We Do For Love

a Fools Rush In mini-tale for Valentine's Day

Steve Rogers x wife!LabLead!Reader (Sketch & Keeps❤️🤍💙)

Summary: An accident in the lab leaves you a bit less than desirable for a romantic evening.

Warnings for the teeniest, tiniest bit of language, but otherwise it's just hilarious fluff. This came from a prompt line of Valentine's Day starters and is my submission for @the-slumberparty's Blast From the Past Challenge!

Steve adjusted to enhanced senses fairly soon after the serum took hold. What took longer was recognizing where ‘regular human sense’ fell on his new scale of feeling, seeing, hearing, tasting, and smelling.

By all accounts, human or superhuman, Steve Rogers knows that scent—the one wafting from behind him as he cleans the stovetop—is foul before the door even opens.

The odor is so strong, so intensely pungent, that he has to squint in order to turn and look at you.

But there you are, standing on the front mat covered from head to toe in some sort of thick, putrid muck that lands somewhere on the color wheel as a tertiary combo of yellow and brown. No artist would use that…except maybe to represent such a horrible smell.

The shit—uh, right, the substance—is tough and rubbery, hiding huge swaths of you.

Steve not only covers his mouth, but he also pinches his nose closed in order to address the halted mess that you are right now.

“I have some questions,” he starts, swallowing to rid his mouth of the adjacent taste, “that I’m not going to ask. Except for the obvious are you okay?”

You sigh deeply. It’s clear you are nose blind due to the sheer amount of whatever it is on you. Steve almost wants to vomit in sympathy. He imagines most humans would have fainted by now.

“No,” you say, staring forward, “thanks for asking.”

You lift one foot up to see a thin line of gunk tracking in around your shoes.

“Damnit. Sketch, I need to get to the shower.” You look to him as if asking him to carry you the rest of the way.

“Will it wash off?!” Steve bursts, regretting releasing his nose the instant his hand swings out. “No, sorry, I just meant…no,” he tries again, firm, “use the guest bath. You’re not tarnishing our bathroom like that.”

He can’t make out your facial expression, so he steps around to get closer, god help him.

You nod which produces a kind of friction-squeaking sound. “It is water-soluble.”

Steve’s not encouraged and whispers, “is it feces?”

“Actually, it’s an experimental building material—” you toe off one shoe gently then use your heel to push away the other “—for one of the Union planets, but since it’s here on Earth and we have humidity, the rigidity isn’t the same. ‘Spose to be like concrete on their home world. Still pliable here which is good because—“ you walk on your socked feet, tiptoeing to the spare bath, Steve a respectable distance behind.

You don’t continue, instead struggling to pry off the now two-centimeter thick layer of the top over your torso.

“No, not those. Clothes are a total loss. Just get in and rinse. I’m taking them to the incinerator as soon as you’re presentable.”

He rushes to open the sliding door so you touch nothing on your way in.

“It’s not toxic, Steve. It’s meant to instantly make supported structures in the desert, but our new tech forgot about the expansion rate so—“

“Yeah, yeah, Keeps. Less talking, more washing.” He turns on the water. He imagines you can’t even feel the temperature through the layer.

“Don’t be an ass.”

He grimaces at the color thinning on its journey down the drain. “Don’t smell like one and we’ll talk.”

Your husband points to the back of the shower for you to drop your now malleable clothes and shoves the bar soap in your hands. For good measure, he drizzles liquid body wash down your back. He waits for most of the ick to rinse from your hair and face before helping scrub shampoo through. It’s…unclear if the smell is lingering on the clothes and tile only or if you still stink. “Uh god,” he coughs out, “should I get the vinegar? Would that do it?”

“Steve.”

At least he can see this very sour face you’re making.

“I’m serious. I won’t be able to sleep next to you like that.”

You simply turn the tap hotter. “You’re being a bit dramatic. Our dinner is at eight.”

He sputters. A tragic side effect of increasing the heat is that the smell now seems to bake into everything around you.

“Uh-uh. First things first. I get it if this is the field or out on a mission, but you are inside our home, and that is nasty. I’m getting the vinegar.”

He deliberately nudges the water to a cooler setting and points between his gaze and yours to communicate under no circumstances are you to think this is a relaxing affair. Cleaning your body is now your sole purpose in life as far as Steve is concerned. You just laugh, exasperated but understanding.

Anyone on this planet would agree you are currently rank.

Turns out vinegar doesn’t do shit for this aroma, but you get a text—that FRIDAY reads aloud because your phone sits in the lab on your desk where you left it—from Tony saying a paste of baking soda all over for ten minutes should do it. You remain soaking on the shower floor while Steve takes a bag of your clothes down to be burned and finds an outrageous amount of baking soda to smear all over your body.

Of course, since he has such an acute sense of smell, it’s not a ten minute process; it’s forty.

“Next you’re going to tell me that my eyeballs are too gross because I can’t put this nonsense on them.”

“I have eyedrops for that.”

“Steve!” You flick some of the white paste at your disheveled, focused husband who sincerely looks like he’s wondering where to drop you off in the woods instead of take to a nice dinner. “We have reservations in an hour. It’s time for me to start getting ready.”

“I love you. I love you so much, you know that. You will clear that whole place out if you go tonight.”

“It’s not funny, Sketch. It’s Valentine’s Day. You promised me that ridiculous golden dessert they serve,” you whine, flopping down on the tile.

“Now who’s being dramatic?”

You pout and huff. “Still you, spoil sport.”

He stands up straight, towering over your tiny tantrum, stretching a crick in his back from leaning over to help you for the better part of three hours now. “I will have them deliver whatever you want, honey, but trust me, I’m doing this out of love.”

“Prove it,” you say flatly.

Steve cocks his head, confused.

“If you truly love me,” you coo, “you’ll give me a kiss. Right now.”

Ah shit. He walked into that one. Maybe the stench has dipped below the human threshold, but Steve ‘Drug Dog’ Rogers still thinks you reek…in the most honest and loving way, of course.

 He rests his hands on his hips, squelching the waterlogged shirt now covered in god-only-knows-what, looking off to the side and licking his lips in thought.

He has to. He’s a good man. You’re his wonderful, smart, sassy-ass wife. It’s no big deal. Then he sniffs on instinct as a reaction to weighing his options, and yuck, that is…not pleasant, sweetheart.

You open your arms to draw him in. “Lab experiment meet lab experiment,” you snort.

“I will get you two gold desserts,” he starts negotiating, and you drop your hands with a frown. “Everything on the menu.”

“Found your Achilles heel, Rogers?” You maneuver carefully to your feet, almost slipping at the last second.

He does jump closer to help, but he doesn’t quite make it there. Both of you know Steve’s actual reflexes could get him to you if he wanted.

“One kiss or I will cling to you until you have to wash it off you, too.”

He’s…not encouraged.

“Fine, Mister Positive Reinforcement,” you grit out. “Give me one sweet kiss and I will stay in here scrubbing until the food arrives. Deal?”

Steve sighs. The things he does for love…

 Carefully, he steps forward and juts out his lips. He’s awkward, more awkward than those first dates you two went on, and it’s obvious he is holding his breath.

As you lean closer, he shuts his eyes, praying you understand that this is just one of those things that’s happened and caught him off-guard and is just…gross. It barely has anything to do with you. Of course, he’d love to take you out and shower you with love, affection, and praise, but right at this second, he’d love to just make you keep showering.

He feels awful about it. You smell so awful though.

Thank goodness your mouth was not covered in paste, and seeing as it was the first place you scraped away the original substance—that and your eyes,—your lips don’t hold any of the scent or taste of stuff.

Then your pasty hands clamp onto his cheeks and Steve moans, not in a good way.

When he pulls away quickly, you’re smiling, tracing the back of one hand down his forehead to pony-pet more residue over his face.

“My white knight,” you dub him.

Steve cracks, grinning from ear to ear.

“Keeps—” he lets your nickname rumble deep in his chest “—are you trying to get me to shower with you?”

“Oh, Captain,” you say, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling, “you’re losing your touch if it took you this long.”

For the water being lukewarm the whole time, it turns out to be a pretty hot shower. Good thing a super soldier can hold his breath extensively.

A long, long while later, sitting together on the floor in front of the couch with matching gilded donuts, Steve kisses your wet, peach-scented hair and smiles.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

You hum and turn to reveal gold leaf stuck across those plump lips he adores. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you big wuss.”

You get your good, proper, sweet kiss then, and the next day, the new guy gets put on active research probation.

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng

So I also realized I've created a mess for myself with taglists. I used to only have Steve Rogers stories, and then I branched out. I don't actually know which people want to be tagged in everything, or just CE characters, or just Steve Rogers. IF YOU NOTICE A POST YOU WISHED TO BE TAGGED IN, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY ASK OR REPLY! I'm working on it, I swear...

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[uhgoodmoni]

Fake Plastic Mistletoe | jjk

Summary: Mai (oc) is highly disappointed when Jungkook asks her to set up the mistletoe for he and someone else. She decides getting drunk is the best way to cope.

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of assault, throwing up, fluff, this is angst ish with a happy ending.

unedited: 4606 words

“Merry Christmas!” Taehyung’s booming voice filled the space, pulling all the guest’s attention to whoever it was that was entering. “Ho ho ho.” Taehyung bellowed, it was someone I didn’t know so I turned my attention back to the drink that I was making. I poured eggnog into the glass, the engraved snowflakes turning a coffee color at the mix of the rum that had already been inside it. I scanned the bar looking for Kahlua. I frowned, realizing there wasn’t any even though Yoongi had put all the alcohol on the counter.

“Hey Yoongi,” I turned to the sink where Yoongi was washing his hands, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He hummed, not turning from the veggies he was rinsing. “Did you get the Kahlua?” His frown was telling.

“I forgot,” He shook his head as he turned to face me, “I’m really sorry…”

I huffed, shrugging as I twirl my glass around. “Don’t worry about it.” I watched as he took the bok choy to a cutting board. “It’s the same with or without.” I lied, but I didn’t really care.

“I’ll get some for New Years.” He muttered, his attention back to the food “Promise.”

“Thanks Yoongi.” I took my first sip of my drink, it was still good. Eggnog was truly the most important part, as it is the sweetest of the ingredients. I took another glass that had been laid out and began making something else. I didn’t know what it was or if I was even doing it right. I’m no bartender, but it was what Taehyung had asked for me to make so I was doing it.

I sniffed it after I was done stirring, not sure of the combinations of liquor and flavors, but whatever floats his boat was not for me to decide. The glass was cool in my hand as I circled the bar, dotted with drinks already. It’ll be a pain to clean up, we should have just done red solo cups like we usually do. It does make it look a lot nicer, and there would be a lot less people than there usually were.

Taehyung was chatting to whoever the guy from earlier was, the door now shut to keep out the cold. It was snowing, and out the window I could see the flakes dizzily falling to the ground. A line of cars was parked out on the street, but by now I’m sure the neighbors were used to it. Our parties were a frequent occurrence.

I shuffled between some people who muttered hello to me, and I smiled back, trying to head for Taehyung without getting too sidetracked. If I didn’t get him his drink now and someone stopped me, he’d probably never get it.

“Mai.”

Damnit. It was Jungkook walking down the stairs hurriedly towards me. He had changed for the party, a nice black turtleneck and some dress pants. He looked awfully dashing. Hair oiled and glistening in the Christmas lights. He had a wide smile on his face, and I couldn’t stop one from forming on mine.

“Don’t let me forget to give this to Tae.” I said before he had even gotten to me. “What’s up?”

He nodded, but I could tell he was absent minded as he glanced around the room. “Can you help me surprise someone?” He turned back to me, waiting for the answer. I blinked. “You see, they aren’t here yet… and I need you to help me set it up.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s so cheesy and…”

“What is it?”

He sighed, “I want to do a mistletoe thing to Alina.” He glanced up the stairs, “I was thinking I could try and give her her christmas present and guide her there y’know?” His shoulders drop, “Is it dumb? Be honest…” He puffed up his cheeks like he was blowing bubble gum, looking awfully pitiful and so damn adorable. Damnit.

I shook my head, “It’s not dumb.” But I wanted to tell him it was. I bit my inner cheek, hoping that I wouldn’t sound disappointed when I spoke next. “So Alina?” I tried to smile.

His grin got wider if that was possible. “We’ve been hanging out a lot recently and.” He looked around him again, but she hadn’t arrived yet. “I want to tell her how I feel.” I nodded, swallowing how sick I felt.

Hanging out a lot? How did I miss this…

“It’s really cute Jungkook. She’ll love it.” I take a sip of my drink. This was not a great start to the night. Not that he and Alina wouldn’t be a cute couple… She was great. Sweet, beautiful, she got along with all of us. How did I not notice that Jungkook liked her?

He nodded excitedly, “Here come help me set it up.” I could feel goosebumps all the way up my arm, and not the good kind. What a joke. I shut my eyes, following after him. I mean, it is my own fault for not telling him how I felt. He was going to get involved with someone at some point. There was always someone trying to talk to him. At least half of the girls who were going to be here tonight had liked Jungkook at some point. Including me, ugh. That’s totally reassuring. I rolled my eyes to myself.

“Hey hey hey.” Taehyung’s voice stopped me before I could get halfway up the steps. He was dressed up as Santa minus the beard, he already had been growing out his own. It wasn’t nearly the bushy thing that actual Santa had. A half baked mustache at best, but it was growing out and he looked handsome anyways. He stared expectantly, “My drink?”

“Oh!” I ran back to him, him thanking me softly as he took the drink. “I hope it’s not bad.”

He sipped at it, “Nothing you make could ever be bad.” He winked.

I smiled, my anxiety a little relieved as I walked back up behind Jungkook. Why was it that I was anxious anway? This had nothing to do with me. If anything I should be happy for Jungkook. It wouldn’t be fair to be jealous, I haven’t ever expressed how I felt. He didn’t even have the slightest clue. My laugh almost escaped me. Jungkook was quite possibly the most oblivious person who ever walked the earth. If I was honest with myself, I could tell him right now that I love him and he would respond with “I love you too bud.”

The conversation from the guest’s got a little quieter as we found the second floor. The lights were off in most of our bedrooms, except Jungkook’s, and Jimin's, which was off to the right. We walked towards the open door of Jungkook’s room. It was nicely made up, a step stool sat in front of the door.

“What do you think? Do you think she’ll see it coming?” The floor was long, Jungkook’s room was pretty far from the stairs. If he hung the mistletoe from his door, chances were anyone could see it as they came up.

“Yeah,” I said, my answer visibly disappointing him. I glanced around, there weren't many places in the house that he could hide it. I frowned, “here.” I walked into his room. “If you hang it on the inside of the door, up a little bit so it’s not completely hanging through the doorway, she won’t be able to see it coming.”

Jungkook squeezed past me to see what I was saying. “Mhm. Great idea!” His eyes widened, and he reached for the mistletoe. It had been laying on his dresser. A green little knot, with a bow tied around it. God it was so cute and I fucking hated it. He came back scooting the step stool under the door and reaching up high. “Can you tell me when you can’t see it through the door?”

I took a few steps back, watching as he moved the plant up higher and higher. I wondered if it was real mistletoe or plastic. Was mistletoe hard to get? Did it matter? “There!” He stopped moving it. The leaves just barely peaked under the frame, no one would see it unless they were looking for it.

He stayed with his arm in the air, his sweater lifted just a little to show his tummy. “Can you get me the tape?” He huffed, stretching even further.

I smiled, amused that he hadn’t thought of that before. I walked back to his room, squeezing underneath him- ignoring his abs, the dumb plant, and finding the tape on the dresser.

“Here.” I held it up for him while walking back out the door. “I’m gonna go-

“Waaaaiit..” Jungkook pouted, coming down from his step stool after he had finished applying the tape. “I still-”

“Ho Ho Ho! Merry Christmas!” It was Taehyung’s jolly voice that echoed through the house. I glanced down the stairs and there she was. Alina smiled, coming in through the door and sliding off her boots. Snow dotted her hair that she had straightened.

“She’s here.” I mouthed to Jungkook, shrugging and about to head down.

I could see him curse under his breath, shaking his head as he walked out to me. His fists were clenched. How curious, so Jungkook did get nervous? I had always wondered if he ever liked someone like this. Liked someone enough to get anxious about rejection. He never seemed nervous when flirting with girls at the bar, or when he talked about going on dates. Seeing him, eyes darting around. He was cute. It meant he really damn liked this girl.

“Heyyy.” I looked up to see Jimin coming out of his room, a fluffy green sweater hung on him loosely, hair silvery with glitter. “What’s this?” He glanced at Jungkook's doorframe, meaning the mistletoe. He looked accusatory at the two of us. “Did what I think just happen, happen?”

“No.” Jungkook snapped at him, his brows furrowed in annoyance. I blinked, avoiding eye contact with either of them. I wasn’t expecting him to be that against the idea. Jungkook sighed, “I-”

“It’s for Alina.” I jumped in, smiling softly to Jungkook who’s face didn’t relax. He shut his eyes, taking a breath. I glanced down the stairs. “We should get back down there before anyone gets suspicious.” I muttered, taking hold of the banister and walking down. I wanted to get out of this situation quickly. There was no way I was being Jungkook’s wingman. No matter how much he wanted me to be. Behind me they continued conversation.

“Alina? Since-”

“Shut up.”

I swallowed the remainder of my drink, and walked back around to the bar. Yoongi was still cooking. I wasn’t even hungry. I didn’t want to be here anymore. My stomach was twisting into awful knots. If I could kick everyone out right now I would. My bedroom was waiting upstairs. There’s always the possibility of locking myself away. The bottles clinked against each other as I started making myself a new beverage, a stronger one.

“Woah there tiger, you haven't eaten yet.” Yoongi huffed, looking shocked at the ratio of alcohol to soda.

“I’m not eating.” I sighed, leaning against the counter. “Sorry Yoongi, I’m not hungry anymore.”

He tilted his head. “It’s your favorite though?” I frowned, and he eyed me up and down as I took another sip. He could read me so well, so I got up and walked away before he said anything else. It was always Yoongi who knew what was going on before anyone else. The only one who knows I like Jungkook.

Out of the blue he had suddenly asked me. “You like Jungkook right?” And that night I was sick of keeping the secret to myself so I spilled it to him. It had made me feel better back then, but this stupid feeling. Why do I have to like him?

I went and sat on the couch where Hobi and some other people were playing Mario Kart. Hoseok let me cuddle into him while I watched them play. Time passed slowly, but I was going to do anything to avoid watching Jungkook talk to Alina. I wondered where they were, if they were already upstairs making out.

Hoseok pinched my shoulder when I let out an annoyingly loud sigh. “What’s wrong with you?” I shrugged, downing the rest of what was in my cup. “You always get drunk when you’re upset.”

With a scoff I turned to him, “I am not drunk!”

Hobi smirked, “Well I know you well enough to tell that you’re trying to be.” I ignored him, but the urge to fill my drink again made me even more annoyed because he was right. “What’s wrong?” He repeated.

“Aren’t I always upset”

“No, you’re my happy little camper.” He squashed me closer to him. “Plus you know you can always talk to me.”

I frowned, whispering, “It’s a secret.”

He hummed, resting his chin on my head. “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head underneath him. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna go get drunk now.” I grinned, pushing myself off of him and back to the bar. Another drink down as I walked around the living room. Meaningless conversation after meaningless conversation. Most of these people I didn’t even know. All my friends live with me. These were their friends. Did they even consider me one of their friends? That’s a dumb question. Of course they did. It’s obvious Jungkook thinks he’s your friend. Bestest friends. Only friends.

Another drink down as the last of the guests entered. The table was set, and if I were the only one that was drinking then I’d look like the resident alcoholic. Maybe that’s true. Thank god I wasn’t the only one drinking.

Yoongi made me a plate even though I had told him earlier I didn’t want any. Another drink down as I joined everyone at the table. I avoided sitting next to Jungkook. He had left a spot next to him which I assumed was for Alina. Instead I sat next to Jimin who mumbled something about Jungkook that I didn’t hear. I didn’t want to hear about their kiss if that’s what he was talking about.

“Bestie…” He muttered, looking over at me. “You’re looking rough and the party only started an hour ago.”

“Jimin, has anyone ever told you you’re too honest sometimes.” I huffed, the alcohol not even tasting like alcohol anymore.

He chuckled, “Damn you’re gonna have a great day tomorrow.” I think I registered that as sarcasm. “Did you even mix anything into this drink?” He sniffed it, cringing. No, no I didn’t. “Aren’t you, like, a lightweight or something?”

“She’s going to bed after this.” Hoseok spoke for me, and I shot him a glare. He shrugged, “Isn’t that what you want?” He raised a brow at me. No response. Yes, yes it is what I want.

“Are you okay?” It was Jungkook who asked, dinner was over and I had snuck a glass of wine from out of Hoseok’s view. I stared at him blankly, the concern in his eyes blurry.

No, I’m so in love with you and everytime I look at you it hurts.

“I have to pee.” I giggled, turning to go up the stairs. The bathroom downstairs was too small. No room to pee. I look back at Jungkook who got a sad look on his face. Who hurt him? I wonder. I'll kill them.

I squinted, watching Alina hop over to him with a puzzled look. He shook his head, dismissing her before walking around to the kitchen.

Alina better not have rejected him. I clench my fist looking at the mistletoe as I come up onto the second flight. Don’t I want that though? Yes.

But no. He looked so sad. If she hurt him, I’ll hurt her. I stumble to the bathroom- no this is Jungkook’s room. The mistletoe hanging above me. It must be plastic right. Where the hell can you get real mistletoe? Isn’t mistletoe a weed? Haha. Weed.

“Mai.” I look over. It’s one of Namjoon’s friends, or rather ex-friends from work, some dude named… Named? Named Gamja. Yeah. Gamja. He thought I was cute and someone told me I should go on a date with him. But he’s not Jungkook. He’s just Gamja. Dick Gamja. I almost giggled aloud.

Just Gamja smiled, “Oh look,” He pointed up above me. “Mistletoe.” I blinked, tilting my head in questioning. So what? It’s just a plant. Plastic plant. Just Gamja tilted his head too. He wrapped his hand… No. He wrapped his hand behind my neck, pulling me closer. No. I scrunched up my nose, pulling away as he pulled me closer. I did not want that. Why? I didn’t even want that date to continue. I said no. So there was no second date. He asked me everytime. Every party. Who kept inviting him. No one?

He had to know I was pulling away, but he didn’t let go. I could swear his grip tightened instead. His lips pushed into mine before I could push him off, my stomach twisting. No. I struggled away, his hand reaching for me again.

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” His grip never reappeared, I opened my eyes to see Jungkook with his hand on Gamja’s wrist. “She clearly can’t give you consent.” Jungkook glared, me swallowing hard.

Gamja scoffed, “It’s just a kiss bro.” He laughed, gesturing to the plastic weed. “You know, mistletoe?” I shuffled back, my back against the door frame.

“She can’t even form a sentence.” Jungkook retorted, stepping in front of me.

“Yeah…” I agreed, “Wait-” I shook my head. Maybe I could form a sentence right? Fuck, did I really drink that much? I still needed to pee. Or throw up. I didn’t know.

“Regardless it’s common decency to just ask.” Jungkook continued, “She’s alone and drunk and you were just going to kiss her? Yeah fuck right off.” He had let go of Gamja, but I didn’t want him to go away. My lips still tingled. I wanted to throw up.

“You’re assuming-”

“Well imagine what she's thinking.” Jungkook interrupted. “If you’re interested, which we all know you are, then ask her on a date.” He kept going, “Oh yeah, you did. She said no. Is that not enough for you?”

Gamja’s upper lip twitched. “Fuck off.”

“Why don’t you leave.” Jungkook gestured to the stairs, keeping himself between me and Dick Gamja. Jungkook watched as Gamja walked away, keeping his eye on him while he pulled up his phone.

I frowned, watching as Jungkook put his phone to his ear. “Yeah can you make sure Gamja is out the door and doesn’t come back.” Jungkook sighed before hanging up a moment later. He turned to me.

“I’m sorry.” My lips pursed together, swallowing the bile that rose in my throat.

Jungkook only shook his head, “Don’t be. Are you okay?” He asked, pulling me to his chest. I nodded weakly. He rubbed my back, my stomach twisting with the movement of his palm.

“No. I have to throw up.” My stomach muscles were contracting or something, but I booked it. I barely found the toilet before hacking up the minimal food I’d eaten. I gagged again at the smell of it, mostly liquid… disgusting.

“Jeeze, this is why we don’t get wasted the first hour of the Christmas party.” Jungkook reprimanded, and I felt his hand on my back before my hair was pulled away, Jungkook using one of my hair ties to keep it in place. He sighed, “God I don’t know how he even figured out when to show up. Or who let him in.” I barely could hear him. My stomach grumbled. Oh god I hate throwing up. “All the guys know he's not allowed around.”

“Jungkook please.” I silenced him, tossing up disgusting looking fluid. He sat down next to me, his hand resting on my knee.

“Sorry,” He clicked his tongue. “Do you want water?” He tilted his head, but I knew I couldn’t drink any. If I did now I’d only throw it up. “Just rinse your mouth with it.” He got up, filling a glass with lukewarm sink water. “Just gargle it.” It found my hand and I listened to him, not that it helped much.

“Stupid.” I rested my head on the toilet seat.

“Mhm no.” His thumb rubbed circles on my knee. Why was he doing that? I scrunched my eyes shut even more, “It’s not your fault he's a dick.”

I huffed, that much is true. “Why him?” I mutter mostly to myself. Except I’m not by myself damnit.

Jungkook frowned, “I don’t know Mai, I’ll do my best to make sure he doesn’t come to anything else.” My head spun around to Jungkook, my pout never ending. “I’m really sorry.” He looked at me innocently. He doesn’t get it.

Keep your mouth shut. Damnit, don’t say a thing. I collapsed onto his lap. His arm found my back, squeezing my arm gently. “Why couldn’t it have been you?” I whispered, so loud. So damn loud and out loud and he heard it. He heard me say it. Fuck.

“Wha- what?” His body shook as he shook his head in confusion. My hands slammed against my face. Oh my god why’d I say that. It was supposed to be said in my head.

“The fucking mistletoe.” It spilled out, kept spilling out. My eyes rolled back into my head. I couldn’t just shut the fuck up.

“Mai…” He started, and I already wanted to throw up again, a sick feeling twirling in my stomach. “You are stupid.” He chuckled, and my head rushed in confusion. I sat up to face him, my face so warm and red. From the alcohol right?

He scrunched his nose up in his stupid adorable bunny smile. God I love him so much what the hell. “Okay maybe I’m the stupid one.” He admitted, “The mistletoe was for you,” His eyes fell to the floor. “I’m just really bad at planning things and my idea was dumb…” He ranted, me shaking my head that was already so jumbled.

I whined, “So you don’t like Alina?” I covered my mouth once I said it.

His shoulders went lax, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have confused you like that…” he muttered, “I’m really sorry if I hurt your feelings. I was just nervous that you…”

“Jungkoook” I cried aloud, “I looove youuu.” I pushed his chest gently. “You idiot.” I cried, a drunken tear slipping down my cheek.

“D-don’t cry.” He panicked, placing his hand to my cheek. “Mai” He glowered, pulling me in for a hug. “I can’t believe this is how I have to confess to you.” His heart was beating extra fast. “I love you too dummy.”

I looked up at him, my brows furrowed. “You’re the dummy.”

He leaned back, his back hitting the bathtub, “I really hope you forget all this in the morning so I can tell you how I originally planned to.”

“Noooo.” I pulled him closer by the waist. “I don’t wanna forget that you said that.”

He smiled petting my hair, “Okay okay. You have to let me kiss you under the mistletoe though.”

I nodded fervently, pressing my cheek into his chest. “Yeah, tomorrow, when I don’t have throw-up breath.”

“Deal.”

~

I peeled my eyes open, my own ceiling above me. Beneath me was the soft fabric of my blankets. My stomach rumbled, slight nausea ruminating. My phone was plugged in next to the bed, I picked it up, it's almost noon. And then I could smell whatever was cooking downstairs, and the clatter of dishes. Slowly I pushed myself up, feeling sticky and gross. I definitely needed a shower. Ignoring the ache in my head and the feeling of my insides still turning I walked around the trashcan placed next to my bed.

My clothing hit the floor as I reddied the shower, setting out some comfy sweats before getting in.

I groaned, my head pounding. Why did I do that to myself? I could have easily just gone to bed, or coped by talking with Hobi. Stupid stupid. I brushed my teeth three times and then threw out the brush.

Finally feeling semi-human again I walked around my room and made sure it was in order. The other’s voices were bounding through the house. Was everyone awake? Was Jungkook? I sighed, opening my door and peering out into the hall. No one was around, but downstairs was the sound of something sizzling, the smell of bacon.

My stomach grumbled and I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or too nauseous to eat anything. Shaking my head I walked out into the hall, tiptoeing towards the stairs.

“Mai.” I jumped at Jungkook’s voice from behind me. He stood in his doorway, standing expectantly.

“Jesus.” I clasped my hand over my heart. “You scared me.” He sighed, brows furrowed. “What?”

He blinked, “You forgot…” His fists clenched,

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook stuttered, “I-” his hands wringing around his shirt. He was nervous…

I smiled, “I’m teasing. I didn’t forget.” I walked over to him, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

He let out a deep sigh, “You’re evil.” He muttered holding a pout of his face. “I kind of got excited to tell you again though.”

My cheeks heated up, “You- you can tell me again.” I swallowed, even though I did remember last night it was all blurry. This felt way more real. Last night was a dream.

He nodded, reaching for my hand, which I tentatively gave him. “Okay.” He shook his head, his grin peaking up. “Well this is dumb but,” He looked up where I already knew the mistletoe was.

“Oh wow!” I giggled, “What a surprise!” I teased.

Jungkook shoved me playfully. “Mai…” His tone regained my attention. “I- I love you.”

I pursed my lips, pulling him closer by his wrist. “I love you too”

“Good,” His hand was trembling. “Glad nothing changed from last night.”

I shook my head, pulling him in for a hug. “No,” I rested my head on his chest. “I’ve been feeling this for a long time now… I don’t think it’ll change all of the sudden.”

“Mhmh.” He hugged me tighter.

“So��?” I glanced up at him, the mistletoe hanging above. It had to be plastic, otherwise it would be drooping and duller in color.

He nodded, “So… can I kiss you?” He chuckled, embarrassed by the question, scratching the back of his head.

I hummed, my cheeks reddened. “Absolutely.”

Jungkook took a deep breath, leaning down and cupping my cheeks in his hands. “I really really like you.” He muttered before kissing me, sighing as he pulled me closer. I relished in his embrace, my hand tracing the back of his neck.

I ticked my head to the side after we pulled away. “I thought you loved me?”

He rolled his eyes, “I really really loveeee you.” His lips found my forehead as he pulled me close once more, swaying with me back and forth happily.

“Ha.” We spun around, Jimin standing in his own doorway. “I thought the two of you oblivious losers would never do it.” He smiled wide, before walking away towards the stairs.

“You’re the oblivious one.” I muttered, poking Jungkook who only scoffed.

“No. You.”

[vampiredecay]

Hey dear, i have a weird request but could you do a Lost boys X reader or Marko x reader Where all the boys (Marko Dwayne David paul Micheal all of them or just marko Dwayne David paul) see the reader re put bandages on his scar but the scars would be like carls in the walking dead and they see the scar ( i wonder how they would react to it?)

thank you so much for the request, sorry it took me a hot second to post! its longer than my other stories on here so far, so i hope that makes up for it. i also hope that you like what i did with it!! its angsty in the beginning but it gets fluffier <3

Scar Tissue

rating: teen

word count: 2,908

tags/warnings: swearing, mentions of being in pain, mentions of scars, mentions of being in the hospital, harassment, fluff, the boys being sweet, the lost boys x male!reader, male pronouns used, poly!lost boys

--

You could have never predicted how your life had gone so sideways. Not in a million years- before the accident, you were pretty much an average joe. Decent family, decent friends, decent existence. Nothing was ever really exciting, but you were okay with that. Life didn’t need to be crazy or unpredictable to be fulfilling.

But, you supposed, the price of being a living being on this Earth was that life could never truly be predictable at all. It couldn’t be, with the events that followed you losing your eye, and pretty much all normalcy you grew to live with.

It was extremely painful at first, physically and emotionally. You had lost a vital part of your body, and you could never get it back. It was disorienting, and uncomfortable, like an itch you could never scratch. The skin around your eye was incredibly sensitive, the lightest movement or touch sending shockwaves of burning pain through your nerves. Tears were always on the brink of spilling over anytime you or a doctor had to replace medicine and bandages to keep the wound clean.

In the end, the pain wasn’t the worst part about it. No, you could deal with the pain. The people in your life, however, suddenly changing and disappearing was way, way worse.

Friends slowly stop coming to visit you at the hospital, calls go unanswered, gazes averted. Your parents supported you, of course. They still loved you, and you knew nothing could change that. But sometimes even they got this look in their eyes, something a little too close to pity.

It was an incredibly lonely first couple of months.

But the loneliness and the heartache slowly healed, along with your eye. The scarring lightened and stopped bleeding, and your skin no longer felt as if it was on fire every time you turned your head. You still had to keep it under wraps, to keep out infection, and to keep other people from seeing how bad it was. You knew that people seeing the bandages would cause looks and questions, but it was better than people actually seeing the wound, which would surely cause reactions that you didn’t have the patience to deal with.

As you were healing, you were also relearning how to do things in your daily life. Your sight and depth perception drastically changed, so things like walking and doing simple tasks had to be practiced all over again. You had to take things slow, which you hated, you couldn’t leave the house very often until you got used to walking without bumping into things.

The first place you wanted to go once you were able to was the boardwalk. It was one of your favorite places in the world, so loud and full of life and happiness. It was absolutely what you needed after all of the hardship you had to deal with lately.

So one night, when it got late and your parents turned in for the night, you went out and caught a bus to the nearest stop to the boardwalk. From there you walked until you saw the bright lights and heard loud screaming and chatter and laughter. You smiled as you took in the sight of the people and the games and the rides, it felt like you were breathing for the first time in months.

The first thing you did was buy a big thing of cotton candy and a soda, roaming the boardwalk and consuming sugary goodness. As you walked, you noticed that some people were giving you looks, but you ignored them, focused on just having a good time and living your best life.

Walking around for long periods of time still gave you a bit of trouble, you were starting to get a little dizzy, so after a bit you sat down on a bench to give your brain time to catch up with the rest of your body. This was nice too, you got to relax and just watch people for a bit. There were all sorts of people out tonight, families and tourists and couples, teenagers and surf nazis and locals, all in one spot, the heart of Santa Carla, enjoying the wonders it had to offer.

There was a group of guys that caught your eye, though. You didn’t mean to stare at them; in fact, you knew not to, you’ve seen them around the boardwalk in the past, and heard the rumors surrounding them. But, in your defense, it has been a while since you’ve been there, and you forgot how magnetic they can be.

They were milling near their motorbikes, smoking and talking and lightly harassing anyone that happened to walk by. Three blondes and two brunettes- had there always been five of them? You could have sworn there was only four- all dressed in black and leather, looking dangerous and infuriatingly hot. You would have noticed more, but by accident you make eye contact with one of the guys and you rip your attention away from them.

Shit, god damnit, you’ve been spotted now. There’s only one thing to do, and it’s to walk quickly away and hope you don’t run into them later.

You get up too quickly though, and you stumble straight into a man walking with who you assume to be his girlfriend.

“Hey! Watch it-” He starts to say, pissed off that someone ran into him, but then he takes a good look at you and lets out a laugh. “Oh, I guess you really can’t, huh?”

The girlfriend lets out a giggle, smirking behind a hand over her lips. You mumble out an apology and try to go around them, but the man blocks your path. “What was that? C’mon man I can’t hear you, you mute too or something?”

You look up at him and scoff, anger building inside you. Who the hell did this asshole think he was? Without thinking, you say “Yeah, real funny and original. Bet lines like that really score you in bed.”

There’s some laughter around you, making you realize that a crowd has been drawn. The man’s face turned bright red, his mouth curved downward into a frown and he got up in your space. “Oh, so you’re a tough guy now, huh?” He pushed you in the chest, making you stumble back. You get dizzy and almost fall, but you don’t hit the ground. Instead, your back hits someone's chest. You freeze, then slowly turn your head, to see a guy with spiky platinum blond hair staring at the man who pushed you. The four other guys with him were also there, glaring at the crowd of people just watching.

You turned to look back at the man who pushed you, all the color was drained from his face. His girlfriend was clutching his arm, trying to pull the man away but his feet were glued in place. The blond behind you smirked.

“There a problem here?”

The silence that swept over was deafening and unnatural, it was like all of the boardwalk was holding its breath waiting for an answer. The man swallowed, eyes gliding over the gang behind you, not focusing on one spot. “N-No, man. No problem.”

You let out a breath as you watch the man and his girlfriend back up, and the crowd starts to disperse. The man behind you gives a shark-like grin and chuckles deep. “Wonderful.” He says, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you away. You can hear your heart thundering in your chest as you walk away with them, listening as they laugh and push each other.

“N-No m-man, n-no p-problem!” One of the blonds says in a mocking wavering tone, “What a fuckin pussy!” The gang starts laughing again, it feels like the ground underneath your feet is rumbling from the force of it. After a little more walking, they stop in front of a different bench and gesture for you to sit down.

“Take a load off, little man!” You snorted as you sat down, grinning despite the slight lightheadedness. Two of the blonds sat next to you, one with a wild mane of hair and a smile to match swinging an arm behind you. You look at all of them, nodding your head a little bit. “Thank you,” You said softly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The spiky blond shrugged his shoulders and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Y/N” You said, and he nodded. “I’m David. This is Dwayne, Michael,” He gestured to the two brunettes, one with curly hair and sunglasses hanging off his shirt, the other with longer straight hair and not wearing a shirt at all. “And that’s Paul and Marko.” The two blonds next to you do little waves, the one that wasn’t right next to you has curly hair and a jacket so cluttered with patches it must be heavy.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N!” Paul says, nudging his knee against yours, making you smile more. “It’s good to meet you guys, too.”

After the introductions were out of the way, David offered for you to hang out with them, but you declined, saying you needed to get home. At that David offered a ride instead. You hesitated, but accepted in the end. Riding behind him on his bike was terrifying and exhilarating, you clutched his middle tightly the whole way home, but the blond didn’t seem to mind.

“You should come to the boardwalk more often,” David said as you got off his bike, now at your house. He smiled at you like he was letting you in on a secret, “We’re there all night.”

From that point on, you couldn’t ignore the boy's siren call. The next couple days you would take the bus over, wander until you found them, and then do stupid shit with them all night. A lot of it consisted of them terrorizing people who even looked at them funny, but you didn’t find it scary anymore. You found it powerful. It was the best you’ve felt in a long time.

It wasn’t long, though, until the questions started. You supposed you should have seen it coming, but hanging out with them honestly made you forget.

“So Y/N,” Paul said one night, it was just you and him and Marko. You were leaning against the railing in front of the carousel, waiting for the others to get back from getting food. When you looked over at Paul, he asked “What’s up with the eye?”

Marko punched Paul's shoulder, giving him a look, and Paul threw his hands up dramatically. “What? I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious.”

You sighed a little bit, mulling over what to say. You weren’t mad that he asked, you just hated talking about it. “There’s nothing much to say.” You said after a couple seconds of silence. “I was in an accident. Got fucked up. End of story.” Paul and Marko both nodded, taking the hint not to ask anymore. The taller blond wrapped an arm around your shoulders and rested his chin on top of your head. A silent apology. You smiled a little and leaned into him, letting him know it was okay.

After that, David, Dwayne and Michael arrived back with food, and once everyone settled down at a nearby table to eat, David proposed that they go back to their place after eating. You were nervous to accept, but they were cool guys so far, so you didn’t see the harm in it.

Before you could voice your opinion, however, a sudden cold, wet substance suddenly splashed all over your face. You yelped and got up, trying to shake off whatever the fuck it was, when you heard laughter getting distant. Suddenly, the boys were all getting up and shouting, someone was holding onto your shoulders, and when you wiped at your eye you could see it was Dwayne. He looked absolutely livid.

“What the fuck just happened?” You asked, looking down at yourself, disgusted to find that your clothes were soaked now too. The brunette gripped your shoulders a little tighter, not enough to hurt but the pressure was there, “Some people have a death wish.”

You would have asked him to elaborate, but then something dawned on you. “Oh shit!” You exclaim, hand going up to your bandaged eye. “Fuck, I have to get home, I have to change this, fuck!” Dwayne's eyes widened a little, and he nodded, calling attention to the other boys, who were all talking angrily to each other. They all looked over, and when they heard that you needed to change your bandage, they all hurried over. “Our place is closer. Michael, take Y/N to get the supplies he needs. We’ll meet back up at the hotel.” David all but commanded, and everyone seemed to be in agreement. The rest of the boys took off on their bikes while Michael steered you in the direction of a small convenience store on the edge of the boardwalk.

“You okay?” Michael asked, worry written all over his face. You nodded at him, though in reality you were feeling gross, sticky and anxious as hell. You thought it was so nice of them to help you out, really, but you knew this meant that they would probably end up seeing your eye. Seeing your scars. The thought alone was enough to make you slightly nauseous. The brunette could tell that something more was going on with you, so he gently took your hand as you approached the shop. You looked at him, and he smiled at you, squeezing your hand gently. You gave a light smile back and looked away.

After buying the necessary wrap, tape and some bottles of water, you both get on Michaels bike and ride off to their place. You were just thinking about it now, David had said the word “hotel”. Did they stay at an actual hotel?

It didn’t take you long to figure out. When you arrived at the hotel, that was really more of a cave, you were in absolute awe of the place. It was massive and beautiful, you couldn’t believe these guys actually lived here. You had so many questions, but now that you were here, they would have to come after.

Michael led you over to a slightly dusty couch and you sat down, holding the items in your hands nervously. Everyone was sitting around you, you had a very attentive audience that you didn’t really want.

“Is there, uh, a private place I could do this?” You asked, and your heart sank when they shook their heads. “Most of the rooms collapsed when the earthquake hit. There’s not much left, and the parts that remain are too dangerous to go into.” Marko explained, and you sighed. You supposed there was no getting around it.

“Okay, well. Just, don’t say anything, okay?” You got out the bandage wrap from its packaging and took a deep breath. Slowly, you unwrapped the dirty bandage from around your face, revealing your eye to the boys.

All of their facial expressions changed, some more surprised than others. David looked the least shocked, eyes of steel trained on your face, just looking. Dwayne and Michael looked a little more concerned, Michael especially, but otherwise they tried to keep their expressions neutral. Paul and Marko looked intrigued, if anything. Like they wanted to ask questions but were reigning themselves in.

Overall, they kept quiet, and they didn’t shy away from your appearance, so you counted your blessings as you cleaned and dressed your eye as quickly as possible. When you were all finished, Marko and Paul launched themselves at you, sitting next to you with wide smiles on their faces.

“Dude! You’re so badass!” Paul shouted, and Marko was quick to agree. “You should get an eyepatch or something. Crank up the badass factor.”

You laughed at their antics, blushing a bit at their words. You could tell that they really thought you were actually cool. It warmed your chest and you smiled as they went on about eyepatch ideas.

Eventually, David dragged the two away, saying it's getting late and they should probably take you home now. You nodded in agreement, letting out a yawn. You didn’t realize just how tired you were.

Dwayne was the one who ended up taking you home, the ride was a lot gentler and smoother than it usually was, which you were grateful for. When you arrived at your house, and you got off his bike, Dwayne pulled on your arm before you could leave. You looked at him, confused, but then he got off his bike, and he stood in front of you, and he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You froze, heart pounding. Dwayne pulled away and let go, giving you a small smile. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard as he got back on his bike. “Yeah- you too.” You stumbled out, making him chuckle. He then rode back off into the night, and you were left stunned on your front lawn.

You didn’t know what would happen now, you had absolutely no clue when it came to the gang of bikers. But you found yourself at peace with it.

Life could never be predictable anymore. And you were more than okay with that.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

In Which I Project

Jon has some sort of neurodivercence and it is making work hard.

@janekfan

cw Jon is really really getting down on himself about what his brain is making hard, so cw for that and internalized ablism relating to things like rsd and executive dysfunction.  Jon also takes this out on his coworkers, because that is how Jon can be.  This chapter is a bit heavy with a hopeful end. If there is a chapter two, it will have a lot more fluff, promise.  (The reason Jon doesn't have a diagnosis is because I am projecting and I am not 100% what all is going on in my brain, this is just my experience.)  Also mentions of alcohol and food.  

Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  

Why is he like this?  Why can’t he just fucking be a normal, functional person. Why does his brain behave like a backed up, broken drain.   He can’t think today.  

He’s been staring at his computer since 6:30 this morning.   He’s been here eight hours.  And it isn’t like he isn’t getting anything done.  But it’s not what he meant to do.  

He was going to check his email, record a statement, do some filing, check Martin’s work, then do some follow ups and check his email again before going home.  

Well.  He checked his email.  Then he noticed a flaw in what he filed yesterday so he had to fix that.  Then the loo was out of toilet tissue and he had to go chase down that, because the building’s maintenance tends to skip the Archives half the time.  (Which is usually fine because it’s used by four fairly neat people, but doesn’t help when they run out of things).  Then Elias had requested a meeting.  And that sent Jon spiraling because he wasn’t supposed to have a meeting today.  That was supposed to be tomorrow and while it’s nice that he doesn’t have to do that tomorrow it threw off his whole day and now he just feels like he’s going to cry or pass out or break his jaw by clenching it so hard.  

He can’t do it.  

He tries to make himself record a statement.  He does.  

But he can’t open the file.  

He can’t.  

He wants to scream in frustration.  Which, of course, is when Martin walks in.  

Jon doesn’t mean to yell.  He really doesn’t.  He doesn’t know where this vitriol comes from.  Was he always like this?   He doesn’t even remember what he says, just the acrid taste of bitter words on his tongue.  

When Martin flees, he tries to open the file again but the color and whine of the lights breaks down on him and his dragging fatigue.   

He tries to loosen his jaw.  Wiggles it side to side.  It pops, but ultimately goes back to tense.   It’s starting to give him a headache.   

He can’t do this.  It’s barely lunch.  He’s gotten nothing done.  

He tries to open this statement.  

He opens his email instead.  

The library wants his books back.  

He’s tired.  He means to gather his books and bring them up, but he ends up cleaning his desk and making notes on half researched statements he forgot about yesterday.  

That puts him off balance.  He hates not finishing.  It makes him feel on edge.  Like the world is going to drop from below his feet at any moment.  Like, in forgetting, the world has already dropped from beneath him, and he’s been walking on empty air and delusions.  And if this has already happened, how can he be sure it didn’t happen before.  

He finishes cleaning and files the loose statements away.  

He finally remembers to drink some water.  

He rubs his eyes against unshed tears and exhaustion.  It’s too bright.  Too loud.  

He takes his books up to the library.  

Hannah in the library tells him to remind Tim to return his books, she he does that.  

Jon is.  Edging towards …probably a nervous breakdown, if he’s honest with himself, by the time he stands before Tim’s desk.  

And Tim isn’t going to relinquish his books without a fight.  

“You can give Martin a rest or I’ll tell Hannah that you lost her books.”  Tim crosses his arms.  

It’s reasonable, Jon knows.  He’s behaved childishly.  This is more than warranted.  But, unfortunately his brain isn’t working.  He’s caught up in the disappointment in Tim’s tone, and again, the floor drops from beneath his feet.  Stomach dropping.  He tries to convince himself that, no, Tim doesn’t hate him.  All he as to do is agree or apologize which he should do anyhow.  But.  But what comes out of his mouth is something along the lines of, “Tim, I’ll thank you not to try to run my department.   This is hardly professional behavior.  Who do you think Hannah is more likely to believe?”   

This wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for the force and anger in his tone.  Misplaced confusion and frustration and exhaustion.  

He turns on his heel before Tim finds the words to argue.  

This is it.  

He’s ruined everything.  

Tim will never talk to him again and Sasha won’t either because he was rude to Tim.  And of course Tim’s mad at him because he was a prick to Martin.  

It’s all his fault.  He should have been able to stay on task.  He’s an adult, damnit!  

He finally opens the file but he hitches a sob before he can squeeze the introduction out of his tight jaw.  

He can’t do this.  

He can’t do this job.  

He can’t sleep at night and work all day.  Can’t even feed himself or get to the store once a week.  

How the fuck did he make it through school.  He’s a worthless mess.  

Georgie knew it.  

He wants to scream.  

They’re talking about him.  They must be.  That shouldn’t matter to him.  He’s their boss.  Besides, he was right even if he was rude about it.  Martin does make irritating mistakes.  He could have been more professional about handling it, but he still had to say something.   And Tim.  Tim had no right to bargain that way.  He has a responsibility to the library, and trying to use it as leverage against Jon is ridiculous.  

But at the same time.  There are the closest he has… had to friends.  Tim was his friend.  Right?  

Had he made that up too?  Has some memory of some earlier misdeed fallen out of the torn hole in the pocket of his memory where he looses things like hours, tasks, sleep, meals, meetings, half-finished statements on his desk.  

Why is he like this?  

He gets some more work done.  But none of the stuff on his list.  

He tries to make himself read the statement, again.  But he doesn’t.  

It’s late.  He’s left with lingering taste of disappointment and discontent.  

Today’s been a wash.  

He looks angrily at his scribbled to do list on the neon sticky note, from the stack Tim gave him back in Research.  Nothing’s been crossed off.  Statement has been circled twice.  He rubs at his eyes.  Tries to wipe away the tension headache.  Remembers to take a drink of water, finally.  It’s been hours.  It does help, a little, soothes some of the anxious desperation and crushing despair.  He wonders how much of it would be soothed if he got himself a hot meal.  How would it compare to the relief of finished that statement.  

But…. he won’t be able to go home and sleep if he doesn’t finish, because he won’t be able to relax until he gets it done.  

He allows himself 5 minutes to cry.  He sets a timer.  

It doesn’t help.  Doesn’t even offer the release he’d been hoping for.  

He dries his eyes with his sleeve.  

He reads the statement.  And scolds himself for taking all day to get to it.  It wasn’t hard.  It wasn’t even that bad.  It was a foolish statement that reeked of mischief and falsehood.  And he wasted his whole day avoiding it.  

He cries again, then.  No timer.  

He leaves his office.  He’s finally done with the day.  It’s edging on 21:00.  He feels like shit.  Of course he hadn’t brought a lunch, why would he have enough brain cells to do that?  He did make a halfhearted attempt at breakfast.  But that was a lot of hours ago, and he’d barely managed a few bites before his anxious stomach had stopped him.  He doesn’t feel hungry now, but he knows he is by the shakiness if his limbs, the over-lightness in his head, the irritation at himself still thick in his veins.  

He still has to get himself home.  

Then he hears footsteps on the stairs.  He thinks about going back to his office, but the idea of going back in there makes his head spin.  He’s spent too long in his office.  Christ, he just wants to sleep.  Just wants to be in bed without having to get home and make dinner or order dinner or shower or get in bed.  He just wants to be there.  Just wants to be there and sleep of eternity.  He angrily brushes away a stray tear.  

Of course, it’s too late now to try to hide, and eh certainly can’t hide how rumpled and tear-stained he is.  So he stands there dumbly, some archaic part of his brain reasoning that if he stays still, maybe no one will see him.  

Tim sees him.  Tim is laughing on his phone, pleasantly buzzed, and fumbling for the jacket he most likely forgot before going for drinks.  At least it’s still fairly early.  At least Tim still cares enough about his job to wrap it up at a decent hour.  He spots Jon, and hesitates.  Jon doesn’t look like he’s doing well.  He trails off mid chuckle.  “Sorry Sash, I’ve gotta go.  I’ll talk to you later, yeah?  Had fun tonight.”  

What does he say to Jon, who’d been a right ass earlier.  Jon, who is now teary and frozen, staring at him with exhaustion and mortification.  

He makes a decision, making a conscious choice to make himself smaller and softer.  “Hey, come back to mine, I’m going to buy you dinner.  As my boss, you’re a prick, and I haven’t forgotten that.  But as my friend, you need a curry.  Maybe we can sort out my asshole boss and my upset friend at the same time, yeah?”

[txemrn]

The Picture Show

Book: TNA

Rating: fluffy; smidge of sensuality, smidge of angst

Word count: exactly 2000

A/N: Oof! I wanted to participate in wacky drabbles #102 this week, but long story short, the week got away from me, and I am painfully late in posting! That's okay, though! It's going up anyway, and I'm sure they won't mind me using their prompt (prompt will be in bold)! Huge thanks to @kat-tia801 for brainstorming this fic with me, and thank you to @chemist-ana for pre-reading (and convincing me it wasn't dumb lol). As always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry (also, Caroline is the name I've given Sam's first wife; even though we know her real name now, old habits die hard... wow, pun not intended!).

***

A crisp, cool breeze manifests a gentle oasis for the gathered movie-goer crowd on the humid city street. Waiting in line to purchase tickets for their impromptu date night, Brynn casually ties a knot in the front of her knit band tee, exposing a thin strip of her Tuscany-sun-kissed skin. Finger-combing her almond waves, she tosses her careless strands into a perfectly teased bun to enjoy the reprieve from the stifling August heat.

“You’re making this too easy for me.” The familiar, smoky whisper sends a pleasure-filled jolt down Brynn’s spine as his breathy chuckles tickle her ear. His fingertips pad across her midriff, tucking his sizable hand into the front of her jeans. His other hand cups around her head as he presses his plump pout to the sensitive spots of her neck. “So, what’ll it be tonight: Melissa McCarthy telling jokes for two hours or scary paranormal demons?”

“The difference being?” Brynn jokes, pulling Sam’s hand out of her pants, lacing her fingers with his.

“Touché,” he chuckles, hiding a wide grin. Their lips meet together for a simple kiss just as the ticket booth attendant motions for them to approach. After collecting their tickets for the latest horror flick, the young couple approach the concession counter. “Wanna share a popcorn?”

Brynn’s eyes light up as she eagerly nods her head. “And gummy worms, please!”

“You are just as bad as the boys--”

“What does that mean?” Brynn jovially pinches Sam, aiming for his chest.

“Let’s just say that gummy worms were never on the weekly grocery list until you came around,” he smirks, raising an eyebrow while guarding his nipples.

“See? I improved your life in more ways than one,” Brynn quips.

Sam lets out a hearty laugh, pulling Brynn’s body closer to his. “Mmmm--” he kisses one side of her neck, “--so many--” he kisses the other side of her neck, his hand grazing the curve of her ass, “--different--” he suddenly squeezes hard, making Brynn yelp, “--ways--” he captures her lips in a hungry kiss.

A clearing of a throat abruptly interrupts the moment. ��‘Scuse me, but did you want butter on your popcorn, sir?” Sam’s cheeks burn red as Brynn chuckles through a nod. “That’ll be twenty-eight eighty-one.”

Sam quickly double-takes as he pulls out his wallet. “I’m sorry,” he grins politely, “did you say almost thirty dollars? For popcorn and gummy worms?”

“And your wife wanted a large Coke Zero.”

Brynn smiles brightly as she dramatically slurps on a straw. “Yes, husband, your wife wanted a large Coke Zero,” she sardonically mimics the concession worker, batting her eyes innocently.

Sam lowers his voice. “For thirty dollars?”

“Actually for twenty-eight eighty-one,” the teenage attendant corrects.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Brynn pats Sam’s chest, winking at him endearingly before turning her attention to the cashier. “He hasn’t been to the movies since de Blasio took office.”

The attendant gives a confused look. “Who?”

Brynn stifles a laugh. “Exactly.” She looks warmly up at Sam as he boops her on the nose, grinning smugly at her. She puts her hand in his hand that is holding his wallet. “I’ve got this, old man.”

“Absolutely not.” Sam pulls his hand away from hers. “What kind of gentleman do you take me for?”

“Sam, it’s not a big deal,” she reaches for his wallet. “You are always paying. Let me do this tonight. My treat.” He quickly snatches his wallet, lifting it above her head while shaking his head. “Samuel!” she titters, stretching to grab his wallet. “Why are you being so difficult? Put that away.”

“Brynn, c’mon, there are people waiting--”

“Exactly. Let me pay.” She pushes her petite body in front of Sam’s as she reaches for her own wallet. “Here, sir,” she motions to the cashier as she begins to pull out two twenty-dollar bills.

“No. Brynn!” Sam loops his arm in front of Brynn’s body, shielding her from pulling her money out. “Stop that!” He turns to the concession attendant. “Here, take my card--”

Brynn swats at Sam's hand, accidentally knocking his wallet out of his grasp, the contents of the billfold dumping out onto the counter. Brynn cups her mouth, laughing at an irritated Sam who is taking a large deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. She quickly hands her money to the attendant before turning her attention to Sam. “C’mon, let’s get this cleaned up--”

And suddenly, there it was, splayed out for both Sam and Brynn to see together: a picture of Sam’s late wife. In the nude.

Sam quickly snatches the picture up as well as his cards and cash, hoping Brynn didn't notice. When he looks back up, Brynn is already giving their tickets to the attendant to be admitted into the theater.

She noticed.

“Brynn--”

“I--I think I’m gonna need some more napkins,” she nervously interrupts, an out-of-breath pant to her voice.

“Ma’am? There are napkins inside," helpfully offered a worker.

“Oh,” Brynn appears defeated, refusing to look at Sam. “I’ll go grab our seats then,” she offers, power-walking away from her boyfriend.

“Brynn? Brynn?” His voice carries over the bustling hallway, but she doesn’t slow down. Once in the theater, Brynn anxiously stumbles in the low-lighting, picking out seats. Catching up to her, Sam’s hands kindly grip her shoulders. “Brynn. Please. Talk to me.”

She cordially smiles at him. “Talk about what?” She sits down, nervously pawing to open her bag of gummy worms.

Sam steals the bag of candy from Brynn. “Are you seriously going to pretend that didn’t just happen?”

“Pretend that what didn’t just happen--”

Putting his hands on his hips, he raises his voice. “You seeing my wife’s tits.” With the sudden cascade of snickers and gasps from fellow patrons turning to stare, Brynn grabs Sam’s arm, yanking him down into his seat.

Sam leans over, whispering into Brynn’s ear. “Please, let’s just talk about this--”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Sam,” her eyes stare intently at the large white screen.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.” Brynn begins wringing her hands as her foot nervously bounces. “I just,” she sighs before becoming quiet, her voice audibly shaking, “I--I didn’t know. I mean--damnit, Sam, you keep a photo of her in your wallet?”

“Of my wife?" He enunciates, making Brynn feel foolish. "Is that wrong of me?”

“No,” Brynn’s lower lip begins to tremble, “yes? I--I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know what I’m supposed to think right now. I figured you'd have a picture of her. Just with, uh, I mean. She would be, um--"

"Clothed?" Sam smirks.

Brynn gradually looks into Sam's eyes, but finds herself abruptly avoiding his gaze as questions flood her mind. Why would he be keeping a nude photo of his late wife? How often does he look at it? Is that even her business to know? To care?

The house lights turn down as the roar of advertisements brightly flood the screen. Brynn rests her chin in her hand, fighting tears. Even though the excitement of the music and vivid colors enthralls the audience, Brynn is a million miles away. She feels completely confused as to how to feel about this situation. Was she even allowed to be upset about this? Why couldn’t things just be simple for once in their relationship?

“Brynn?” Sam beckons for her from the clouds, bringing her back to reality. He lifts up the armrest between them. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her into his chest, peppering her hair with kisses.

As the movie ends, Sam and Brynn remain silent, making their exit to the streets of New York. After a few blocks, Sam stops, sensing Brynn’s heightened emotions. He can tell she’s still bothered by what happened before the movie.

He sighs heavily. “Let’s talk about it.”

Brynn lets go of his hand, scoffing, spinning around to see if anyone was watching. After a few moments of silence, she can feel the heat budding in her cheeks. She crosses her arms, and while staring at Sam, she lets out an inaudible ‘okay’.

With sincerity in his voice, Sam locks eyes with Brynn. "I honestly haven't looked at that picture in months. I completely forgot that I even had it. But--” he hesitates for a second, choosing his words wisely, “--throwing it away seems like the wrong thing to do."

"Caroline* and I didn't have sex until our wedding night." Brynn's eyebrows furrow before her eyes widen in shock. Sam continues. "She wanted to wait until marriage, especially given," he takes a deep breath, "my past--which you know about." Brynn nods. "But then the night before our wedding,” a smile blossoms across his face in remembrance, “she gifted me this wallet. With this picture. She said it was her promise to me--her all to me. I know you see a nude picture. But,” he sighs nervously as his eyes glaze with tears, “it’s always been so much more than that.”

Brynn considers his words, a warm smile growing on her face. She finally holds out her hand, for Sam to take. “Let’s go home.”

The next night, Brynn did bedtime alone with the boys. The penthouse had been fairly quiet throughout the day, even after Sam came home late from work. There is still an awkwardness in the air, and even though Brynn and Sam weren’t angry with each other, they also didn’t know what to say.

Closing the twin’s bedroom door, Brynn quietly tiptoes to the home office in her robe, knowing Sam is lost in his paperwork. She cautiously knocks on the door. After a few moments, the door whips open, Sam grabbing Brynn and jerking her inside.

“Since when do we knock on doors, babe?” Sam sits back into his leather tufted chair, pulling Brynn onto his lap, endearingly rubbing circles on her lower back.

“I--I wasn’t sure if you were busy, or--or if you--”

Sam holds his hand over her mouth, a smile growing across his face. “You know better.” He grabs her hand, kissing the back of it. “Now, what’s going on?”

Brynn coyly looks up at Sam, clearly nervous to ask her next question. “Can I see your wallet?”

Sam’s face falls, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Why?”

“I want to see it.”

Sam can’t bring his attention to Brynn. He never removed that photo of his first wife, nor did he know how Brynn was currently feeling about the nude picture. All he does know is he better pull out his wallet. And start praying for mercy.

Brynn stands up, circling around Sam’s office chair. Sam reaches in his back pocket, pulling out the wallet. Brynn wraps her arms around his shoulders, brushing her nose against his ear. “Open it,” she commands with a sensual, husky tone.

Sam dutifully opens his wallet to the plastic picture holder. His cheeks begin to swelter with pink growing down his neck. He can feel a queasiness growing in his gut as he lays it out for Brynn to see.

“Aren’t you going to look?”

“Brynn?” He throws off her arms, becoming irritated. “What kind of game--?”

And that’s when he sees it: a picture of his stunning girlfriend, carefully photographed in the nude with her hands posing perfectly across her assets.

Sam’s eyes quickly dart around the room, finding Brynn locking the door and uncinching her robe. Letting the fabric pool on the floor, she straddles her naked body across his lap, his hands unable to resist.

Brynn grabs the wallet, pulling out the nude photos of herself and Sam’s first wife. “This may have been her promise to you, and you can keep it for as long as you want,” Brynn pulls out her photo, handing it to Sam. "But, this. This is my promise to you, Sam Dalton." She leans over, stealing his breath with a fervent kiss. “I love you.”

Cupping her cheek, Sam’s eyes gather tears as he looks admirably at his new forever. “I love you, too.”

***

Tags: @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @thefrenchiemama

[mydarlingklaus]

A Very Mikaelson Christmas:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I know, it's been forever but I've really just been relaxing and taking care of myself the past couple of months but to all my readers for "Black Roses" I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT THE STORY! I will update as soon as possible and I miss it as much as you all do.

This is part 2 to chapter 10 of my klaroline family drabbles: Meeting the Mikaelsons, and occurs before the merge storyline. Link to my ff page can be found here and at the bottom so PLEASE leave a review!

Happy reading :)

"Alright let's go through the list:" Caroline began checking off her clipboard. "Elijah and Freya are on food duty. Marcel is taking care of music, Josie's bake goods are in the oven, Hope and Hayley are finishing the tree and other interior decorations while Kol and Alaric string up the lights outside. Did I miss anything?"

"Yes, like an explanation for why we are doing all of this tedious work when we could have simply hired professionals?" Rebekah blurted from her chair.

Caroline pointed a fake smile at the blonde Original who was casually sipping on a glass of spiked egg nog.

Given that this was the biggest Christmas party she's ever hosted, Caroline tried not to stress too much even over incompetence. This was a joyous time and was determined to make it special. Being an only child with just her mom Caroline never partook in grand holiday gatherings and now, she had two families coming together for the very first time.

"I knew I forgot something, Rebekah you're on table duty." Caroline ordered.

"The hell I am." She snorted before drinking from her glass again.

The baby vampire breathed in and out through her nose to refrain from her fangs latching onto an 1,000 year old being's jugular.

In an attempt to make everything perfect for tonight, Caroline created a schedule of tasks for all the family members to obey, and hers was making sure everyone followed through with their tasks—she didn't count on confronting prissy Mikaelson behavior.

Over a thousand years of existence and they all acted like they never heard of basic chores.

"Last I checked you're apart of this family too which means you have to assist in some way. You can't just drink liquor all day." Caroline scolded.

"Actually I've been doing that just fine, thank you very much." Rebekah grinned raising her glass to the aggravated blonde. "Not to mention I've spent all morning searching for those impossible snowflake place settings you so desperately desired. You're welcome by the way. So from where I'm seated I've done my part."

"If we're being technical, all you did was pick out the pattern from the comfort of her bed while I was the one who actually had to hunt them down." Klaus announced walking into the room, making Caroline exhale into a smile.

She was relieved and happy to see him, not just because she missed his handsome face but because he was the only one capable of talking Rebekah down.

Despite the minor difficulties, Caroline was grateful the girls insisted on bringing thievery one together this year to celebrate Christmas as a family.

Kol flew in from California the night prior, around the same time Rebekah arrived from New York City on her private jet. Alaric had last minute paperwork to finish before handing over the keys of the school to his right-hand-man, Dorian, for remainder of the break—he drove out early that morning, alone.

Alaric finally accepting Klaus as a permanent factor in both Caroline and the girls' lives made their complex situation more graceful.

"I hardly see how that's relevant." Rebekah retorted with an eye roll, amusing her dimpled face brother walking up behind the chair to place his hands on her slumped shoulders.

"It's relevant, little sister, because you haven't lifted a finger since you've been here. This is a family day which means everyone is pitching in, no matter how much we may not want to. You're no exception here. I assure you arranging a few place settings on the table won't break a nail."

She shoved him off. "Oh please, as if you actually care about the holidays when you haven't spent one with us since Hope was wobbling around in bloody diapers."

"Rebekah—"

"You know Nik, It's okay to admit you're only agreeing to such humiliating labor to impress your precious baby vampire. We all already know the truth." She teased, smirking while finishing off her drink. The expression in her eyes could easily get under anyone's skin.

Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line, already sensing Klaus' annoyance beside her.

After all these years of being in Klaus' life—in some capacity—she figured the vindictive Original would have warmed up to her by now.

Obviously, not so much.

"Damnit Rebekah, stop being a brat and just fetch the bloody plate settings." Klaus groaned impatiently.

He shook his head when she childishly stuck her tongue out at him before standing to make her exit towards the kitchen.

"Where are those bloody daggers when I need them?"

Caroline sighed exasperatedly when placing her clipboard on the piano. "Oddly enough, that doesn't sound too bad. I'll forever deny that I ever condoned that."

Klaus laughed under his breath. "Your secret's safe with me."

The blonde's white teeth nibbled on her rose colored bottom lip. Both hands fisted into his black buttoned-down shirt, fingertips teasing the exposed necklaces before she leaned on her tiptoes for a quick but lingering kiss. Lips barely tasting the other before slowly parting, foreheads resting against each other's for a few peaceful seconds.

"Hi." She smiled.

"Hi." He smiled back while tucking her hair behind her ears. "I don't like seeing you stressed."

"Then you're completely unaware of what it's like to have a conversation with you." She teased, kissing his pouty lip sweetly. "But if you were any different I wouldn't want you."

"And what a shame that would be."

Their lips pecked against each other's again before Caroline let out a deep exhale, looking over their Winter wonderland home to see what else needed to be done—there was quite a bit.

"You're still stressing." Klaus said when observing the stress line in her forehead.

Caroline scoffed turning to face him. "Uh, yeah! The tree is only half done, the outdoor lights are probably just slapped on like a pile of meat and did you not just see me pulling teeth just to get your sister to set a damn table!"

He chuckled to himself, kissing her wrinkled forehead and rubbing her arms to calm her.

"Rebekah is the laziest vampire I've ever known and I'm sorry about her behavior but love, she had point. We could've hired professionals to do all of the decorating and cooking in half the time. I have excellent recommendations from our last gathering. Money wouldn't have been an issue if that's what you were worrying about."

"Seriously? Do Mikaelsons know nothing about traditions?" She scoffed.

"Actually no, we don't. To be fair me and my siblings only began liking one another two years ago."

Caroline's lips pursed as she pushed his hands off of her. "This had nothing to do with money, and this isn't just any Christmas, it's our first Christmas with everyone home together and I wanted all of us to embrace all the holiday traditions as a family. Which includes forcing in-laws to do basic household tasks like decorating a damn tree."

"In-laws?" Klaus smirked.

Caroline's cheeks slightly reddened as she accessed the weight of her words. Her sweaty palms rubbed up and down her burgundy bodycon dress hastily.

"Shut up..." She mumbled, slapping his chest when his smirk grew.

"Look, Klaus I may not have grown up with a huge family but I did have a lot of friends who took that place. We decorated trees, hung lights, ate dinner together, drank more alcohol than legally allowed and enjoyed each other's company." She explained somberly. "They stopped me from feeling lonely every year and I always said when I had a family of my own those traditions wouldn't die, and now I do..."

The corners of Klaus's lips turned up into a soft grin at her shy doe blue eyes staring up at him through her thick lashes.

Klaus stepped forward, grabbing her by the hips. "I like this."

"What, my distress or me bossing you around?" She teased relaxing into his hold around her waist.

"You being in my family." He clarified. "I like that you're mine and hearing you consider this your home. You'll never be alone, love and I'm very much looking forward to many, many more Christmases to come with all the ridiculous traditions attached."

A warm smile made its way to her face as she observed the genuine contentment on his.

It was just as surreal for her too, but for Klaus to go centuries spending every holiday alone to now sharing it with an entire family, she knew how much these moments meant to him. But she was just as eager to spend the rest of eternity with him too.

Her hands reached up to his face to bring him in for a quick but effective kiss

She moaned into his mouth when he unexpectedly gripped her sides, tongues brushing as they stole a few more of these rare moments.

They were both dazed as Caroline pulled away.

"Thank you. I guess I'm kinda into you." She smiled while wiping her lipstick off his bottom lip with her thumb.

Klaus responded with another kiss, this one more urgent and than the last. His hand placements more determined and certain as squeezed her hips, riding up the skirt of her burgundy dress.

Caroline giggled against his lips.

"Nope. We can't right now..." She whispered, trying to show some restraint inspire of her body's craving.

"Come now love, I haven't had a second alone with you all day. Indulge me." He persisted, pulling her closer against his hard chest.

"There's still so much to do..." Her defenses slowly falling.

"That'll all get done momentarily. Besides, we are currently standing underneath a mistletoe. We must comply with all holiday traditions. Isn't that what you said?"

Caroline appeared slightly bewildered when looking up at the festive plant hanging over them, not remembering hanging it up there before peering down at her smirking hybrid. The inner conflict roaming in her head already a thing of the past when her hungry eyes made contact with his full bottom lip.

"Rules are rules." She agreed breathlessly, her arms now wrapped around his neck she happily succumbed to the surrender.

Not beating his tongue from invading her mouth and fingers scrunching up her dress as the oral exchange deepened into a more passionate frenzy.

Her sexual appetite no better than his, especially when being deprived of each other for longer than 10 minutes.

"Oh for fuck sake! Would you two get a room already?"

With a low groan, the couple detached their lips but remained wrapped in each other's arms despite Kol's rude interruption.

"Certainly. Every room in this house belongs to me after all." Klaus announced.

Kol tilted his head with a smile, leaning against the living room's wall with a glass of liquor in his hand and ankles crossed.

"I'm no prude and usually would be helping myself to the view of your public display of affection, however, someone has to save my precious nieces from the emotional scarring." He claimed. "Not to mention, I've been tortured enough today from hanging bloody Christmas lights with that moronic human all day. Last thing I need is a floor show featuring Caroline where I'm not participating."

The blonde's cheeks suddenly a deeper shade of blush pink while she held Klaus back by his chest.

"Say anything even remotely offensive towards her again and I'll rip out your heart through your throat. Understood?"

The younger Mikaelson grin spread menacingly at the beading gold hue in Klaus' eyes.

"Is it a proper Mikaelson gathering without a few death threats? Happy holidays to you too, brother." Kol lifted his glass to the couple before skipping out the room.

"Remind me to snap his neck while he's sleeping tonight." Klaus groaned.

"I don't get why you're still bothered by his remarks after all these years. You know how he is and how much he loves getting under your skin because you make it so easy. He's harmless."

"More like a pest." He scoffed. "And his habitual inappropriate comments towards you doesn't make it right Caroline and quite frankly, I'm over it. Why did you to invite him anyways?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I invited the entire family and last I checked he's your baby brother, who you've missed more than you want to admit."

"Debatable." Klaus muttered, causing Caroline to laugh as she trapped his lips with hers for a sweet kiss.

"Better?"

He smirked against her lips. "With you? Always."

Playfully rolling her eyes, she twirled away from his greedy hands.

"And speaking of the girls Lizzie just texted that she and Sebastian are about ten minutes away." Caroline informed, deflating Klaus' smile.

"Yes, how could I forget we allowed our naive 17 year old daughter to go on a solo road trip with a boy three centuries older than her." Klaus muttered.

"She's not alone."

His eyes narrowed at her teasing tone. "Caroline."

She giggled, fixing the collar of his shirt. "Lighten up. I thought we talked about this. You said you were going to stand down as overprotective dad when it came to the girls love lives."

"They're only 17 and 18 years old. They're not allowed to have love lives, especially with boys as old as I am." Klaus scolded.

"Weren't you the one who was more than thrilled to agree to Sebastian spending Christmas here?"

Klaus' face scrunched. " 'Thrilled' is a bit of a reach, love. More like you and Lizzie ambushed me with the invitation. I'd agree to anything for her to be here even if it meant agreeing to undesirables staying in my home."

The baby vampire's eyes narrowed. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" His eyes widened. "Caroline, this ancient boy popped out of nowhere. Has shown a sudden interest in our very young and vulnerable daughter after knowing her for what, a few days? And has her so mind-warped he even managed to convince her to let him spend the bloody holidays in our family sanctuary. He's a stranger to all of us, so forgive me for being a bit skeptical."

Letting go of his collar Caroline took a step back, letting out a loud huff as she combed her fingers through her golden tresses frustratingly.

"If I say something you don't like, promise you won't throw a fit and ruin Christmas?"

"You think I'm being paranoid." He concluded for her.

She nodded while crossing her arms. "Yes, and unreasonable, and a bit of an ass."

"An ass?" His eyebrow quirked up.

"Very much so. Babe, I love you. I know you have nothing but good intentions when it comes to the girls but you need to stop. You have to trust them."

"I do. I've told you multiple times that was never the issue Caroline and you know it. Can't believe you're still insinuating otherwise." He barked.

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Klaus look how you're reacting right now. It's Christmas! We're supposed to be cheerful and loving towards each other, not insulting and yelling. You try chalking up this behavior to being an overprotective parent but it's more than that. Deep down you don't trust that Lizzie can handle herself."

"You know that's not true." He claimed defensively.

"When you describe her as 'vulnerable' and 'naive' it sorta weakens your claim. It makes me feel like you don't trust me either when I keep reassuring you that everything's fine."

Klaus' features softened as he observed the clear irritation and concern on her face. The wrinkle in her forehead that swigged out whenever they argued shined in all its adorable glory, but for the first time he wasn't delighted to see it.

There was no one in the world he trusted more.

"Car-"

She raised her hand when he tried to step towards her.

"You're an amazing father Klaus, the best even. 90% of the time you're everything they need, and I try to not be jealous about it." Caroline confessed. "But that 10% is for who they are as young women, the parts of themselves they're not comfortable sharing with you. That's where I step in and give them all the advice you can't, like boys and hormones. Hard to believe but there are some things even Klaus Mikaelson isn't an expert on."

Klaus swallowed, feeling more guilty and ridiculous by the second despite Caroline's attempt at lightening the situation with a smile.

"Lizzie is doing good. She's stable and happy for the first time in so long and has no interests of messing up her progress. I know you worry and want to protect her but if she's ever going to be the free-spirited adventurer you always imagined her to be, you have to let her grow on her own. Let her make mistakes and be as normal of a teenager as she can. Believe me when I say nothing ruins the relationship between a father and daughter more than telling her she can't see the boy she likes."

Klaus winced imagining his bond with Lizzie being served over something as irrelevant as a stupid vampire boy.

Being in control of all aspects of his life was how he refrained from completely losing his mind. He was a leader, King of the French Quarter kingdom but these weren't his hybrid soldiers he could command—they were his family.

He nearly lost one daughter for not being there when she needed him, he couldn't make that same mistake with another—no matter the intentions.

"Bloody hell..." he groaned, tugging at his curls. "I've been a proper prick, haven't I?"

Caroline's eyes shifted upwards, pretending to ponder. "Only a little." She said while making Klaus lightly chuckle under his breath.

Biting her bottom lip she cautiously stepped towards him.

"We're not welcoming him into the family, just getting to know him. He makes Lizzie happy so we owe it to her to at least give him a chance." She said, grabbing his hands into hers and caressing the base with her thumb, feeling all the built up tension slowly being released from his body and the situation.

He tilted her chin up, making her crystallized blues peer into his. Her hands rested on his biceps while his free one tightly wrapped around her waist.

"I do trust you, more than anyone. Please tell me you know that." Klaus desperately pleaded.

Her eyes wandered his worried face and heart ached at his desperate tone.

Over the course of their relationship Caroline felt she had to jump through multiple hoops to smother Klaus with reassurance. Deep down she understood his insecurities about their relationship—if she was confident in choosing him and not hating herself for it—but she had some of her own as well, especially when it came to being a good mother.

Caroline slowly nodded.

"I know, but it's nice to hear you say it too." A soft smile made its way to her face.

Her arms circled around him before pulling her hybrid in for a kiss that dissipated the claustrophobic tension.

Klaus squeezed her hips as the kiss transitioned from languidly and slow to passionate and purposeful.

Their lips, warm and soft as they exhaled into each other's mouths. Standing underneath the mistletoe without a care in the world of who in their nosey family could walk in on them.

They were each other's last eternal love and were not going to hide it from anyone—especially during the happiest time of the year.

Caroline gripped his biceps again, softly moaning as she opened her mouth to him and Klaus was all too eager to comply to the request.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The doorbell rang before their tongues could even touch.

"Ignore it." Klaus groaned while going in for another kiss.

"We can't just ignore the door." She weakly retorted as their lips hovered.

"Sweetheart there's a at least six other people in this house. Let them feel useful." He mused when his thumb released her bottom lip from the clutches of her teeth.

Caroline was on the verge of complying until the buzz of her cell phone on the piano distracted them both.

"What is with all the bloody interruptions?" Klaus groaned.

The baby vampire giggled as she wiggled out of his embrace to check the bright screen.

"Our daughter is the interruption. She and Sebastian are right outside. Try to play nice." Caroline encouraged, grinning into another quick kiss before walking towards the front door.

Klaus felt a surge of panic run through his body as he watched from afar as Caroline opened the door.

Her face lighting up at the sight of the young blonde girl in the doorway, pulling her teeth in for a tight hug that visibly embarrassed Lizzie but he knew deep down she appreciated it.

A small smile began forming at the corners of his lips watching them together, knowing they were two of the four lights of his life—his forever love and daughter both under the same roof with him again. For the first time all day he felt whole, finally having all his girls together again, even if it was only briefly.

Family was something Klaus never took advantage of, not anymore.

He tried to focus on the tender moment playing out in front of him instead of the the smirking brunette boy standing beside Lizzie in the doorway.

Klaus' smile faded and fists clenched when Sebastian greeted Caroline with a kiss on both cheeks.

This was the first time he had actually seen the other vampire fully.

No denying he was originated from a different era, based on his ruffled white shirt, boots and blazer like a pirate. Lizzie explained that Sebastian was desiccated as a teenager but he still had a mature aura that made Klaus uncomfortable. His features so sharp and defined, it made him seem much older than he claimed. Too mature for a newly 17 year old girl to be with—Klaus thought.

"And these are for you, Headmistress Forbes. Elizabeth informed me that you fancy white lilies."

Klaus overheard the youngster using his charm on Caroline and based on her flattered reaction and an 'aw you didn't have to' quickly following, it seemed to be working.

-I hate this.

Klaus's chest compressed as the three began walking towards him with beaming smiles on all faces except the boy. Instantly noticing the young couple's fingers interlocked together while Lizzie and Caroline talked and Sebastian's eyes wandered around the mansion curiously.

-I really hate this...

He let out a deep exhale as a smile shaped his lips as the enthusiastic young witch skipped into his arms.

"Merry Christmas Klaus!" Lizzie beamed as their hug tightened.

The nerves that had piled up in Klaus' throat dissipated at the warm greeting from just one of the four lights in his life. It was difficult to imagine the centuries he went without physical affection given how habitual the act was now.

It had barely been two months since he last saw Lizzie but it felt like forever now that she was back home—her real home.

Rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head, Klaus slightly pulled away with one arm still around her.

"Merry Christmas sweetheart. How was the drive?"

"Great. I mean, Uncle Damon's burnt down Camaro is as ancient as he is and I nearly broke a nail operating the stick shift, but overall no complaints."

Klaus nodded his head, making a mental note to dispose of the Salvatore hand-me-down and buy Lizzie a brand new car.

"All that matters is that you're finally here safe and sound." Caroline beamed as she hugged her once more. "Everyone else is probably in the kitchen, slacking on their tasks but they'll be happy to see you."

Expecting everyone to follow her to the room but instead stood in confusion as no one moves.

Lizzie's feet stayed planted, biting her lip anxiously while pulling at the fabric of her white sweater like she wanted to rip it in half

"Um actually, before the rest of our dysfunctional family joins in on all the awkward fun that is to surely take place, I want to officially introduce someone to both of you first."

Klaus felt like the wind was knocked out of him when she took a step backwards to join the young vampire's side. Trying to keep his temper at bay when their hands joined again.

"This is Sebastian. He's a new student at the boarding school and my...my boyfriend." She timidly announced.

Another punch to the core.

Klaus' face was neutral but his body was stiff as a board from the pent up frustration that came with watching your child grow up right in front of you.

He tried to keep in mind the conversation he and Caroline just shared—easier said than done.

"It's nice to officially meet you Sebastian. We've heard great things about you. We're glad you were able to spend Christmas with us." Caroline greeted him.

"No, I'm the grateful one for you Headmistress. Not just for allowing me into your home for the holidays but also enrolling me into the school at the last minute. I see where Elizabeth gets her generosity from." Sebastian charmed.

Klaus' eyes couldn't roll harder, even more from how much Caroline was actually being affected by such mediocre charm. Her bright smile and modest blush that were once only preserved for him now being used on a amateur immortal with accent was sickening.

"It's an honor to finally put a face to the name, sir." Sebastian said with a nervous closed-lipped smile, stepping forward with his hand out.

Klaus stared down at the boy's hand, studied it like it was a foreign object as the three impatiently waited for him to make the next move. A handshake was final, a sign of respect and approval—he definitely didn't approve of him just yet.

He didn't like like this boy and if it were up to him his heart would be rolling in the ice cold snow for even gazing in Lizzie's direction. But he owed it to both Lizzie, and Caroline, to prove he trusted her.

Drawing out a dramatic exhale through his nose, Klaus uncrossed his arms as he locked eyes with the immortal boy. His jaw set and body tense when engulfing Sebastian's hand in a death grip, finally reciprocating the formal gesture.

"Um, Lizzie why don't we go find a nice vase to put these lilies in." Caroline suggested.

"You mean leave them alone, together?" Lizzie laughed. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks mom. I would prefer to return to Mystic Falls with my boyfriend in one piece."

Klaus chuckled at the nervous gulp dropping down Sebastian's throat.

"Sweetheart I promise, I won't kill him. Go on." He assured her with a sinister smile he usually wore before ripping out someone's spleen.

Relieved when she reluctantly followed Caroline out of the room, he set his focus back on the bug-eyed vampire in front of him.

"Unlucky for you I'm not big on keeping promises." Klaus gripped Sebastian's hand even harder—making him wince in pain and jerking himself forward.

"Mister Mikaelson—"

"Except when it comes to my family." Klaus added. "You'd be wise to remember the only reason your limbs aren't scattered around the bloody bayou and heart remains in your chest is because of Lizzie."

Sebastian frantically nodded, groaning from the pulsating ache in his right hand when Klaus finally released it from his hold.

Klaus took a step back, dipping his hands into his pants pockets as he watched the vampire boy massage his own hand. The vampire boy who was spending the next couple of days under his roof, charming his family. The vampire boy who captured Lizzie's heart and knowing there was nothing he could do about it—to protect her.

He sighed looking down at his shoes. "Do you care about her?"

Sebastian paused for a few seconds before nodding his head.

Klaus pressed his lips into a straight line as he walked dangerously slow towards the boy. "Usually I wouldn't tell a stranger this but you're not someone I consider a threat, Lizzie means everything to me. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for her and that includes torturing and mutilating anyone who dares to hurt her in anyway. Understood?"

The vampire gulped when he tripped over the carpet, now realizing how close their chests were to each other's and his back to the wall.

"She's been through quite a lot in her short life and doesn't need an ancient delinquent ruining how far she's come. So I ask again, do you care about her?"

"Me and Elizabeth had our issues in the beginning, I'll admit." Sebastian shamefully confessed. "I—I did hurt her, rather cruelly, and by all unknown good graces she found it in herself to forgive me and grant us a second chance. Deep down I know I don't deserve the your daughter's love and care but, she's the first person in centuries who sees me as a man instead of a monster. Who thinks I'm worth a second chance. It'd be senseless of me to not see what this could become and the past couple of months have proven the future to be bright. So yes, Mister Mikaelson I care about Elizabeth immensely and will leave before I ever hurt her again."

The hybrid shook his head, a small laugh following after. "I know that story, all too well." Cleared the emotional lump in his throat.

It felt like looking into the mirror of he and Caroline's journey. How they originated in hate and hurt. The amount of chances she gave him, the way they saw each other in ways no one else could and the frogs she had to kiss along the way before choosing him as her forever.

Not that Klaus was rallying for this boy to steal Lizzie away, but he was beginning to understand the their draw to one another. Thankfully they wouldn't have to face similar challenges but there were sure to be new ones, and he'd be there by her side—if she needed him.

"Well, I will say I appreciate your honesty."

"I didn't want my first impression to be based under false pretenses." Sebastian grinned with a shrug. "Though she tells me not to worry, your opinion about me does matter. The Headmistress as well but from what Elizabeth has told me, you two are quite close. She values your insights and opinions more than anyone's. Given your infamous and intimidating reputation, it was actually less awkward meeting you than the hairy mortal with a crossbow."

Klaus threw his head back, laughing hysterically.

"You should've seen when he actually tried using that contraption on me. Free comic relief. I'm sure he has one with your name on it as well."

Sebastian snickered. "Yes, actually he's already threatened me with it a few times. Threats and all, I'm glad she has a family who cares about her to this extent. It's refreshing...to someone who is foreign to such familial love."

Klaus understood this boy better than he'd ever admit.

Sighing, Klaus placed his hands in his pants pockets again.

"Come on. It's going to be a long weekend and you haven't even scratched the surface of meeting our entire family."

Link to my ff page. Thanks!

[cherrywoes]

ni. (acanthus.)

KAKASHI BRAIDED HER HAIR for her when it became evident she couldn’t do it by herself. Despite the extensive wrap job he had done on her arm, soaked in antibacterial gel and burn spray, he had been too late to catch the damage to her nerves. What little medical ninjutsu he did know had salvaged the damaged muscle underneath and prevented boils, but the upper layers of her skin had been utterly ruined. She had range of motion, but it came with pain, and flexing of sensitive muscles that weren’t quite ready to be moving yet. So, he braided her hair—it was not as neat as if she had done it herself, was messy with inexperience, but it kept the longer lengths out of her face and, for the most part, she looked like Sakura again.

She didn’t ask him where he had learned to braid. She also didn’t ask him about the scroll he tucked into the bag he had packed for her—filled with spare clothes, necessities, anything she could wish for as a girl going into virtual exile—that looked suspiciously like a summoning scroll, the wooden end ornate and the Hatake clan symbol carved into it. It looked nothing like the summoning scroll he used for his dogs, but she kept her inquiries to herself and focused on the mission statement she held in her burn free hand.

“Amegakure and Kumogakure.” Sakura traced the names written in red with a single finger. He paused from where he was tucking pre-made seal papers and explosive tags into a side pocket, turning his head back towards her incrementally to indicate she had his attention. “The last I heard we were on neutral terms with both villages. What happened?”

Kakashi hummed as he unzipped the secondary larger section of her pack and tossed a handful of nutrigrain bars inside, along with five bottles of water and a flask that she assumed was also filled with water. She watched him sneak a tin of jasmine pearls in there as well. “No one knows. One day, out of the blue, they declared they had an alliance and set their sights on Suna, Iwa, and Konoha. Tsunade didn’t think they had enough shinobi to do it—it turns out they did, and in vast droves too. They’d been planning it for a while, I think.”

“But Konoha hasn’t declared war with them; why not?” Sakura rolled the mission statement back up against her thigh, using her hand to tie the tiny string together messily. “We’re allies with Suna and Iwa, we should be helping them.”

Sakura forgot, momentarily, that she had no say in matters like war, or even Konoha at all, and chided herself mentally for forgetting such an important fact. She was as good as dead to Konoha, and she knew they hoped she would die on the battlefield in the end.

She, secretly, hoped she did too.

“We are. Discreetly.” Kakashi zipped up the pack and hefted it experimentally. Deeming it light enough for her to carry, he set it beside the door frame and took a seat beside her on his raggedy couch. It was green, littered with claw marks and obscure stains that looked like blood, and had Gai’s taste written all over it. “It would be illegal for normal Konoha nin to do what the War Ops do in wartime. There are rules, sanctions that prevent unjust actions between nations. The War Ops are similar to ROOT, but far worse, in my opinion. I was never part of it, but Genma was, at some point. They forsake the village in the name of the village, sabotage what they can, kill who they can, and when the war is done, whoever’s left alive will return and reinstate their Konoha citizenship, wiped clean of their crimes during the war.” He paused, then, his only visible eye filled with guilt and sadness. “But you won’t be able to come back when it’s all said and done. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have no other choice, do I?” Sakura shrugged lamely, ignoring the pull of her skin beneath the bandages. “It’s alright, Kakashi. I deserve it for everything I’ve done. If they consider my crimes paid for dying on the battlefield, then that’s fine. I don’t see any reason to try and escape it.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking away from her and through his living room window, just barely lit with the first rays of dawn. She had maybe an hour before she had to report to the rear gates towards Amegakure. “Konoha will miss you. They might not realize it, but when they need you most, they will remember what you did for them.”

“Other than killing their friends and family?” She raised an eyebrow and laughed, but it was a pathetic imitation of one. “Maybe. But it’ll be too late by then.”

“Maybe.”

Sakura reported to the gates when Kakashi couldn’t put it off any longer. She carried her pack on one shoulder, wearing the uniform that had been delivered to his front door in the dead of night while they had slept. There were no identifying crests on the dark flak jacket, no familiar stitching in the hems or seams, and the fabric was foreign, exported from the hidden island nation of Hanagakure. While it was comfortable and stretchy, the long sleeves pulled and dragged on her bandages, irritating the previously calm skin. The rest looked like standard ANBU attire, save for the mask they had given her when she arrived at the gate. It was black and white, opposite of the red and white that ANBU typically wore, and depicted the face of a crow upon it: a silent jab that crows brought death, just as Sakura brought death to her teammates.

She may have found it funny had it been happening to someone else.

“Be safe,” Kakashi said as two War Ops members moved to flank her cautiously. There was no need for farewells; they had already said them the previous night. The dew on the trees evaporated as the sun rose higher in the sky, as the village woke and got ready for a new day. “And take care, Sakura.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sensei. For everything.” And then she was snapping on the mask with one hand, pinning her braid to the back of her head, and was gone, vanishing into the trees with the two War Ops members as if she had never been there at all.

“Wait!” Ino Yamanaka’s shrill yell broke through the admittedly peaceful silence the morning had brought. Birds startled at the sound and took to the sky. She looked worse for wear, her once neat hair bedraggled and frizzy, dark circles lining her eyes. Behind her, following at a slightly more hasty pace than he was used to, was Sai, his pale face pulled into an expression of aggrievement—Kakashi had never seen such emotion displayed so openly before, at least from the former ROOT member. “Shit! Kakashi, did I miss her?”

“Yo.” He gave them a two fingered salute and nodded his head towards the trees. “If you had been a few seconds earlier, you would have caught her.”

“Damnit.” Ino sunk to her knees on the ground, dirtying her skirt and tears beginning to stream from her eyes. Sai, though he was not crying, knelt beside her and rested a hand on her back, rubbing awkward circles on her back in an attempt to soothe her. “I wanted to apologize to her—I didn’t think—”

“Ugly doesn’t blame you, Beautiful,” Sai said in that same blank tone. “You’re her best friend.”

“What kind of best friend am I?!” Ino wailed, a dark red flush crawling up her neck, a product of rage, anguish, and sadness. “I’m the one who practically had her sentenced to death! I’m the one who reported her! If I had just kept my big fat mouth shut, maybe—!”

“Ino,” Kakashi sighed, kneeling down to her height and grasping her shoulders. Sai paused, giving him a knowing look, and stood, taking a few steps back to deter the growing crowd of civilians flocking to the gate. “Sakura would have been caught eventually. It’s alright. She doesn’t blame you. This way, she knew what was coming; she believes she deserves it, so she doesn’t hate you for it. She hates herself.”

Ino hiccuped, her tears growing steadier and faster. “Then why do I feel like I just killed my best friend, Kakashi?”

He closed his eyes and tamped down the flare of anger in his chest. “Because you probably did.”

Sakura heard Ino’s cries from half a mile away. The War Ops were determined and moved fast, neither speaking a word to her as they leapt from tree branch to tree branch, infusing chakra into their steps to move a little bit faster, to push her a little more harder. She was able to keep up with them but only barely, her heart tugging her back to comfort Ino, to see the village one last time. She had to stop herself several times from looking back for a brief second, just to see if she could make out a head of pale blonde hair, and focused on the rapidly moving backs of her escorts, their nondescript brown and black hair the only hints of color on them.

While they were fast, they were also silent, but Sakura could taste the animosity crawling all over them anyways. They had likely been briefed on her status, and there was always a chance she would be fighting with a relative of someone she had killed, be it Yamanaka, Hyuuga, Akimichi, or a civilian. She would not only be watching her back for their enemies, she would have to watch out for her allies, too; there would be no friendships made here, she thought grimly, and adjusted the straps of her pack. Kakashi had been smart to add a lightening jutsu to it so it wouldn’t hinder her progress, but it would be a nuisance if she had to fight with it on.

Though, if her latest fights had been anything to go by, she was more likely to obliterate organs and brains with a single rush of chakra than breaking bones with blunt, chakra enhanced fists. She would have to test it when they arrived at camp—some miles away near the borders of Ame—or if they chanced upon a group of rogue ninja along the way. And her seal needed to be examined, too, but she didn’t trust any one of the War Ops members as far as she could throw them. Her own abilities would have to be enough.

“Caravan, three o’clock. Possibly rogue ninja.” The first ninja, a woman, held her arm out in an order to pause. Sakura landed lightly on the tree branch behind her, eyes darting over the horse mask she wore and then into the underbrush, where she could just barely make out the wheels of a carriage and several men dressed in what appeared to be Amegakure gear. “No. Amegakure forces… Six chuunin and four jounin. Orders, Crane?”

The second ninja hummed in thought. Sakura would recognize the sound of Neji Hyuuga’s voice anywhere, her gaze hyper focused—the long brown hair, slight build, the way he carried himself… She should have guessed. As far as she had been aware, Neji had been sealed by his clan and virtually disappeared from the public eye, but if this was what he had been doing for the past year or so, then she would have to be wary.

“Engage hostiles. Horse, crowd control. Crow… close combat. Fight to kill.”

Sakura scowled behind her mask. He was already putting her at risk of death. She shouldn’t have been surprised; the last time she had seen Neji, they hadn’t been on good terms. If this was how the rest of her life was going to be while they fought this war, she would rather throw him to the wolves and fend for herself.

Their orders received, the triad scattered to surround the caravan. The contents were obscure, but Sakura could make out the kanji for ‘explosive’ on a barrel tied to the top. They were nearly thirty or forty miles out from Konoha, so they were clearly intended for the village, perhaps to weaken the defenses or take out enough ninja to cause an issue.

The plan of attack was clear. Sakura would be forced to go in first; Neji would come in with Horse and keep them all limited to the small pathway and prevent them from vanishing into the forest. It was a smart plan… if only it had gone as she thought it would.

Sakura leapt down from her perch on a branch and slammed down on a man’s shoulders hard enough that the chakra in her feet sliced clean through the ball and socket joint and severed his arms from his torso. It hadn’t been intentional, but she sawed a kunai across his throat anyway, arterial spray flying into the air in an elegant arc. It was warm and wet as it poured down her face and absorbed into her clothes, but she couldn’t linger on just one. She shoved the body to the ground, the impact causing her knees to jolt unpleasantly, and darted for the nearest ninja in her line of sight.

He was large, burly, with cracked teeth and eyes full of red blood vessels. The vest he wore was more kevlar than a standard vest, so when Sakura tried to force her kunai through it, she was met with enough resistance that she had to change her plan. She swung her fist towards his face, intending to break his jaw and slam the delicate bones in his nose bridge up into his skull, but he caught the chakra laced hit with his bare hand, unaware of the horror crawling over Sakura’s face as her razor sharp chakra tore through skin and muscle and flesh and bone, all the way up to his elbow, bits of gore and shorn veins flying through the little crowd they made.

Horse and Neji never came to back her up.

When the man screamed, hand flying up to grab at his bicep, she lunged forward and ground her fist into his skull. She heard the crack of bone and the soft give of brain matter and then he was dead, slumping at her feet, blood pooling between the webbing of her toes and sinking into her brand new shoes.

She was on her own, she realized, and had been set up quite spectacularly. Horse and Neji’s chakra signatures were well on their way towards Amegakure and fading fast. This must have been the elders’ plan: set her up, get her killed, and no one would be the wiser if she died due to foul play.

Sakura slaughtered her way through the Ame nin with tears burning in her eyes and a knot in her throat that she couldn’t work through. She had thought she had been done with crying when she had left Konoha. She had thought she would be stone hard and cold when she left, unmoving, and stalwart in the face of her own death. Instead, she was as scared as the day she had faced off Orochimaru in the Forest of Death; as scared as the day Sasuke had knocked her unconscious and left her at the gates; as scared when she killed that poor girl when she was trying to heal her instead. Terrified, even, and fear fueled her anger, which fueled her determination to live.

She wanted to live. But did she even deserve it, anymore?

The last of the Amegakure ninja fell to her feet, his head rolling to a stop against a tree stump. A large lake of blood, demolished organs, and gore had grown the more she killed, and the mark on her forehead stung something fierce, as if someone had taken a hornet stinger to her skin and was painstakingly drawing out the circles and lotus flower like a cruel tattoo.

Sakura reached under her mask and brushed the tears away, blood streaking across her cheek and the corner of her eyes. There was nothing left to do now but move forward. She could let them believe she had died and flee to a far away country where no one would think to look for her; but a darker part of her, whispering in the back of her mind, told her to go to Amegakure, to show Neji and Horse that she was worth more than a few chunin and jounin, and when they weren’t looking, stab them in the back as they had her.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “An eye for an eye, right?”

With one last cursory glance to the ninja she had killed, she began heading towards Amegakure, following the invisible trail that Neji had left behind.

一 (ichi) | masterlist | 三 (san)

[caffeinatedbraincell]

I’m back on my bullshit with more TOG fluff, have fun :)

Read on AO3

Joe stumbled into the kitchen, soaking wet and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He looked around frantically before making a beeline toward the countertop. He lunged for the notebook lying there.

Behind him, Nicky yelped. “Yusuf!”

Joe turned around to find his husband carrying a package of flour in his arms, which he’d apparently been retrieving from the pantry while Joe barged into his workspace.

“Hmm?” Joe said distractedly, already starting to feel the lines slipping. Damnit, why did the perfect words for his poems always only occur to him in the shower? Meter, alliteration, emotion… he’d had it all at the tip of his tongue moments ago. He just needed to write it down before he-

“Hayati, you better have a good reason for standing dripping wet and half-naked in my kitchen. There’s soapy water everywhere! You’ve made such a mess, Joe, and I just mopped…”

Nicky’s lamentations continued, and Joe tried desperately to listen while mentally reciting what was left of the lines he’d composed in the shower.

“Joe?” Nicky’s fingers snapped impatiently in front of his face. “Are you even listening to me?”

The last vestiges of his beautifully crafted words evaporated from his brain, and Joe sighed, shoulders slumping forward. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I’ll clean it up.”

He turned to grab a spare dish towel from the cabinet, shivering slightly as a wayward breeze hit his damp skin. Before he could take two steps, Joe felt a gentle hand around his wrist.

Nicky maneuvered the flour package onto the table and leveled him with a mortifyingly discerning look. “What happened, love?”

Joe remained silent, unsure of how to go about explaining the absurdity of his current presence in the kitchen. The whole endeavor seemed rather stupid in retrospect. And it wasn’t like he had a line or two of breathtaking poetry to show for it, either.

Nicky’s eyes widened a little at his hesitation. “Are you alright, Joe? Are you hurt?” He ran his hands fretfully up and down Joe’s arms and chest, feeling for traces of an injury. Joe’s eyes snapped up guiltily, and he took hold of Nicky’s wrists and brought them to his lips.

“I am alright, amore. I mean it. Not at all hurt. Please do not worry.”

“You’re trembling. Go dry off and wear something warm, I’ll take care of the floor. Then you can tell me what’s going on.”

Minutes later, Joe emerged from their room in one of Nicky’s large, fleece-lined hoodies. He found Nicky in the kitchen, wringing out a towel into the sink. As soon as he saw Joe, Nicky walked over and pressed a warm mug of hot cocoa into his hands.

“Let’s sit on the couch?”

Joe nodded, following his husband to the living room and curling up next to him on the cushions. A small blaze was starting to catch in the fireplace. Outside, rain poured with a vengeance. Nicky had closed the window but left the curtains open. Joe smiled to himself. He had never met anyone who loved the rain as much as his Nicoló.

“Drink, hayati. We can’t have you catching a cold. See, I even added those tiny marshmallows you like.”

Joe took a large sip from the cup, sighing softly as the chocolate-covered notes of nutmeg and cinnamon floated over his tongue. He nuzzled closer to Nicky, feeling a little overcome with warmth and love.

Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe and pulled him closer. “So, are you going to tell me what prompted you to run out here mid-shower in the cold of winter?”

“I thought of the right words,” Joe mumbled into Nicky’s holiday-green jumper.

“Hmm?”

“For a poem I was writing. I’ve been struggling for days with a particular section and it suddenly came to me while showering. I wanted to write it down before I forgot.”

A comfortable silence blanketed them for several minutes. Joe took another sip of his drink, savoring it gratefully.

“You didn’t, though.”

“What?” Joe asked.

“You didn’t write anything down. You came into the kitchen, but you never even opened your notebook.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot the words. They never stay for long.”

“Was it because I yelled at you?”

“No! No, amore, that was well-deserved. And you didn’t yell at me, you just…emphatically expressed your displeasure at having to mop again. Which is fair, honestly.”

Nicky chuckled, and Joe felt his heart fill with warmth all over again. He set the empty cocoa mug aside and tenderly pressed his lips to Nicky’s.

The next morning, Joe found a whole set of brand-new children’s bath crayons in the shower, stacked neatly next to their soaps and shampoos.

___

The crayons turned out to be a life-changing convenience. This became clear just three weeks after they arrived, when Joe found himself in a position to send a completed manuscript of his current poetry book to his publisher ahead of the deadline.

“This has literally never happened before,” he told Nicky in awe. “I’m always late, if anything. You are a genius, my love, thank you so much for the pre-Christmas present.”

Nicky all but preened. “Had you told me earlier, I would have gotten the crayons for you ages ago.”

“Ah,” Joe replied a little bashfully, “I didn’t actually know such a thing existed until you got them.”

It was when Joe returned from a brief meeting with his publisher the following day that he and Nicky had their first actual fight in several months. It started, like most of their fights, with empty stomachs and a grocery trip oversight.

“Joe, there’s no fresh garlic in this bag!”

“There was none at the store. Use the minced garlic in the fridge.”

“What?!”

Joe rolled his eyes. “It’s the same thing, Nicky. Better, in fact, since it’s saving you the trouble of having to chop it yourself.”

“Have you ever heard of making roasted garlic cloves using minced garlic?”

“I have not,” Joe conceded. “We should make something else.”

Nicky knew he was being impractical. Obviously, there was nothing Joe could have done if they were out of stock at the store. But Nicky had been planning this dish for days, and had already promised Nile he would send her some as part of his ongoing campaign to refute her claim that “any form of garlic except garlic bread is gross.”

There was no way Joe could have known about that, either, but Nicky was in no mood to admit any such thing.

“Joe, you had one job! I gave you a grocery list!”

Joe turned from where he was stocking the refrigerator, brow furrowed. “I don’t know what exactly you expect me to do about the store being out of garlic.”

“I don’t know, maybe check another store? Was that the only grocery store in this city?”

“Nicky, I think you should go to your room.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just…you’re hungry. And you’re clearly not prepared to cook without fresh garlic. So let me do the cooking, and you, uh, do something else. Outside of the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen, madre de dio, Nicky! I’m trying to help you!”

“Maybe you could help me by actually getting the stuff I asked you to get from the store!”

“You know what, if you need whole garlic so urgently, get it yourself. It’s dark and below freezing outside. There is no way I’m wandering from store to store at this hour to fulfill this baseless whim of yours.”

That, Nicky knew, was a completely justified response to his unreasonable anger. But it hurt nevertheless.

“Fine,” he whispered, grabbing his coat and storming out the front door before Joe could see the tears prickling in his eyes.

Joe stared at the door, astonished. Part of him wanted desperately to follow Nicky outside. Of course he could check a couple more stores. If Nicky genuinely wished for something, Joe would go to the ends of the Earth, scour Heaven and Hell, to get it for him. No amount of ego was worth knowing his beloved was out there, hungry and alone, in the frigid wind.

But Joe was also well aware that he wasn’t at fault here. And Nicky, his Nicky, rarely reacted like this to their disagreements; perhaps he just needed some time for himself. It wouldn’t be right for Joe to impose his company when his husband clearly didn’t want it.

Joe sighed in frustration. A hot shower would clear his head, he hoped, heading for their bedroom.

Twenty minutes after he had stormed out, Nicky was coming around to the realization that this had been a profoundly stupid idea. Moments after leaving the house, he had realized that he’d left the car keys behind. Foolishly, he’d boarded a bus for downtown, too irked to return home. Now, with the bus routes closed for the night and taxis staying off the road as snow clouds threatened the city, Nicky quietly admitted to himself that he was stranded.

The first weak snowflakes began to fall. Then the wind picked up, blowing several icy droplets into his face. Nicky shivered. Fuck this, he thought, pulling out his phone. His pride wasn’t worth causing Joe to worry, and it definitely wasn’t worth getting sick from the cold and creating loads of extra work for his husband. He was going to call Joe, apologize profusely, and beg him to come pick him up.

At their home, Joe let the steaming water soak through to his tired bones as he scrawled passionately on the shower walls. He was a little hurt and, if he was being honest, more than a little worried. But for once Nicky wasn’t here for him to talk to, so he threw his words at the wall in brightly colored crayon instead.

He almost didn’t hear his cell phone ring. Contorting his upper body out of the shower, he wiped his hands on his towel and reached around for the phone in his pants’ pocket. The called ID flashed his husband’s name. Joe picked up without hesitation.

“Hello?”

“Joe, I fucked up. I’m s- so sorry. I should never- never have spoken to you like that, h- hayati. Please- please forgive me.”

Over the line, Joe could hear Nicky’s teeth chattering as he struggled to get the words out. Joe shut the water off and clambered out of the shower.

“Nicky, what happened? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m f- fine. It’s just cold.”

“Come home. Please.”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s the problem. I took the bus here. The c- car keys…”

Joe had put the phone on speaker and was already getting dressed. He shouldered into a coat and seized a large throw from their bed, striding into the living room.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Uh, Mira Mesa Transit Station. S- sorry, kind of far.”

“Nowhere in the universe is too far.”

“Joe-”

“Just sit tight, I’m on my way.”

Joe drove like a madman. Luckily, no one else was insane enough to be out in this imminent blizzard, so at least the roads were clear. In just under ten minutes, he reached the station.

A figure sat huddled under the overhang. Joe barely managed to stop the car before jumping out.

“Nicoló!”

Nicky struggled to his feet. “Joe, grazie a dio-”

“Shhh, amore mio, I’ve got you,” Joe soothed, pulling a shivering Nicky towards the car and bundling him into the passenger’s seat. Once he'd climbed in himself, Joe turned up the heater and divested Nicky of his too-thin, snow-soaked windbreaker. “Wear this,” he coaxed, whipping his own dry jacket off and wrapping it around Nicky’s shoulders.

“No, hayati-”

“Shh, love, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Joe wrapped the throw over the jacket, dusting the snow from Nicky's collar and tucking the blanket in. The whole way back, he drove with one hand on the wheel, intertwining the other with Nicky’s and rubbing his knuckles to warm him up.

“Shower,” Joe decided as soon as they stepped into their home. “You’re so cold, my heart. Go stand under warm water until you can feel your toes and fingers again. I’m going to make us some hot soup, okay?” Joe leaned forward and kissed Nicky’s nose gently.

Nicky nodded, too cold and tired to insist on helping. He had an inkling sense that Joe might still be irritated with him, after all. It would not be undeserved.

He made his way to their bedroom, draping Joe’s jacket over a bedpost and discarding his own clothes as he stepped into shower. Exhaling deeply, he turned his back to the stream of hot water- and froze.

A red bath crayon lay fallen on the floor, clearly left behind in haste. Joe must have been showering when I called, Nicky thought with a pang of guilt. But what had caught his attention was the shower wall in front of him. There, written in his beloved husband’s flowy cursive, was a poem.

If I could only read your heart When your lips cannot translate I wouldn’t let it break, my love Yet if it does Take mine An eternity alone I’ll wait.

The warm water poured down Nicky’s back, relaxing his aching muscles even as tears sprung into his eyes at Joe’s tender, longing words. Nicky stared and stared until the steam blurred the writing beyond perception.

A knock at the bathroom door snapped him out of his reverie.

“Nicky? Are you alright? Almost done?”

Nicky cleared his throat. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He shut off the water and dried off. He found the bedroom empty, and slipped into the pajamas and fluffy sweatshirt that Joe must have laid out for him earlier. Dry and warm and very cozy, Nicky felt his eyes well up again at the care Joe put into something as minor as picking out some clothes.

Even during their worst fights, Nicky never doubted their love for each other; their hearts had been one far too long for any such lingering uncertainties. But it never ceased to amaze him how quickly Joe forgave. How despite taking Nicky’s hurtful words to heart, Joe went above and beyond to make sure he didn’t suffer.

He took a deep breath to regain his composure, and walked out. But the moment he entered the kitchen, the fragrance of creamy red pepper tomato bisque reached his nose, and he very nearly broke down in tears again. His favorite soup. It was a recipe he and Joe had perfected together through the years. Watching Joe quietly ladle it into two bowls, Nicky felt something clench in his chest.

“Hayati.”

Joe spun around. “Nicky! Are you feeling better, my heart?”

“I am.”

“Oh, good. Are you, uh…” Joe’s eyes flickered to the floor. “Are you still angry with me about the garlic thing?”

Nicky crossed the distance between them in two strides and threw himself into his husband’s arms. Joe stumbled back, a little startled, but quickly pulled Nicky close and buried his face in Nicky’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Nicky.”

“No. No, Yusuf, please. You did nothing wrong. It is I who should beg your forgiveness, having treated you as I did. You've shown me nothing but kindness, and I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

Joe shook his head in protest, nuzzling his nose into Nicky’s neck.

“I saw what you wrote in the shower,” he continued. Joe stilled in his arms. “I- I don’t know if you meant for me to see, but…”

“I forgot to erase it. But everything I write is for you, Nicolò. It’s yours.”

“It was beautiful. Beautiful, and heartbreaking. Forgive me, my all. Forgive me for raising my voice at you, for making you feel alone. Forgive me for walking away insteading of talking to you. And forgive me for dragging you out into that storm at this hour to come searching for me, it was beyond cruel to make you drive so far-”

Joe pulled back, eyes round with tears, and gently pressed his palm to Nicky’s lips.

“Stop it. Please. Don’t apologize for calling me when you needed me. Where would I rather be than at your side? I meant it, earlier. Nowhere in the universe is too far.”

Nicky held Joe’s hand to his lips and kissed his palm. A tear slipped down Joe’s cheek as he swallowed a sob. Nicky wrapped a hand behind his neck and rubbed soothing circles into the tense muscles there. After a few minutes, Joe's breathing evened out, and he lifted his eyes to gaze at Nicky with unguarded adoration. It would be so easy to just let this go, Nicky thought. But the knowledge that he had hurt Joe stood like a wall of glass between them, and Nicky felt it would drive him mad.

“Joe, I- I need to hear you say it. If you forgive me, that is. I don’t know, tonight has just been a lot. Please, hayati, I-”

“You are forgiven. You are always forgiven.”

Nicky exhaled, feeling the glass wall shatter. He kissed Joe’s temple softly. “Thank you, my love.”

Joe tilted his head slowly, dragging his lips up Nicky’s jaw until he could capture his mouth in a melting kiss. Nicky responded with ardent devotion, backing Joe up against the refrigerator and holding him there as they kissed again and again. It was only when he grew light-headed from lack of oxygen that Nicky pulled back. Still, Joe whimpered at the loss of warmth, reaching out for his husband.

“Nicky…”

“Joe, you have no idea how much I want to stand here kissing you all night. But you’ve prepared this wonderful dinner. I’d hate for it to get cold.”

Joe laughed, a joyous thing that swept Nicky off his feet just like it had the very first time he'd heard it.

“Alright, let’s eat. But after dinner we’ll cuddle on the couch under the heated blanket and I’ll hold you to your promise.”

Nicky smiled fondly, unable to help leaning in and placing one more kiss at the corner of his beloved’s lips. “Please do.”

[alison-anonymous]

flawsome bandits pt. 21 ♡ sonic

Flawsome Deceptions

Part 21! Only 3 more chapters left, my darlings! I hope you enjoy! This is also being uploaded to Wattpad as well, if any of you are interested. Love you all, darlings!

Warnings - violence (not too bad though), and some angst near the end

♡♡♡

...and smashed it onto the ground.

Robotnik’s mouth dropped open in horror as he watched his creation sink into the ground, singeing the blades of grass beneath Y/n’s tennis shoes until they were no longer recognizable. It even began to eat away at the shards of glass next to it, and Y/n winced.

That could have been her insides.

“YES!” Sonic cried out in victory just before he got punched in the face by Metal Sonic. But at least his girlfriend - or ex girlfriend - was still alive.

“What the hell have you done?!” Robotnik screeched like a banshee, rising up out his seat and gasping in horror at his specialty made poison that was supposed to melt Y/n’s insides and was now instead melting the ground beneath their feet.

You see, the lion’s actual plan had been to deceive Y/n into thinking that he would let her friends go if she came with him. But being the actual VERY HAIRY buttho- I mean intelligent scientist that he is, his actual plan was never to leave her friends alone. He would take Y/n, kill her, then destroy her friends as well so that he has a bunch of weird alien animals to conduct his experiments on. But then he got an amazing idea (not really).

What if he made Y/n kill herself in front of her friends?

God, it was genius! 

Seeing their friend kill herself would definitely put a damper on their strength, as the loss of their friend would be very debilitating. But they forgot one thing.

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Y/n snarled, her fur beginning to tingle as her powers began to churn. She cracked a smirk. The zebra was back. “I think it’s time that we switch roles, don’t you think?” 

Robotnik furrowed his brows, confused as to what she meant. She took this small window of opportunity, reeled her fist back, and punched him straight in the face.

“I’m not a zebra anymore! I’m a lion, you motherfucker!” 

The impact was enough to send the man falling straight out of his drone and he collapsed onto the ground, a pathetic jumble of limbs and mustache hairs. He let out a groan in pain which soon turned into a snarl, and he quickly noticed that his controller was no longer in his grasp. This was a little bit of an issue because that controller was the one that he could use to power Metal Sonic, supercharge him, and shut him down. While he was distracted, Y/n quickly dove into the drone and snatched up the controller, staring down at the three buttons that blinked before her.

They were all the same color.

Damnit.

“You little bitch, WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?!” Two strong gloved hands wrapped around Y/n’s furry ankles and ripped her out of the drone. She let out a shrill scream as she went airborne momentarily, and thinking quick, she let out a low hum. Her body instantly responded, holding her up into the air so she was in a sort of trance. Shadow let out a low growl from the ground, his ruby irises flaming with heartbroken rage. 

“Because you’re a creep!” She shouted down at him, and slammed her fist onto the first button on the controller. She glanced down at Metal Sonic, who was in the process of trying to kill the actual Sonic, only to find that it didn’t change anything. She grunted and pushed the one on the bottom. 

The robot froze. 

Sonic rolled on the ground and stood up, preparing to run off again as he watched the robot in confusion. The red eyes on the bot grew bold for a moment, and then… turned off. That was the off button. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief and lowered herself onto the ground. Unfortunately, her victory was short lived as Shadow tackled her to the burnt grass.

The icy blue hedgehog let out a shriek as she went collapsing onto the ground from his weight.

“Get off of me, you pervy walrus!” Y/n snarled, immediately trying to shove the dark hedgehog off of her. But he wasn’t ready to let go that easily. He latched his strong arms around her waist, and sent them tumbling onto the ground like a bad gymnastics performance. While they were distracted, Knuckles took this opportunity to slash the binds around Spirit and Tails, freeing them. The duo quickly bounded up, armed and ready to fight, only to find that the bot was already shut off. Sonic quickly sped over to the struggling hedgehogs only to narrowly miss a burning hot laser. He froze, gaze shooting up to meet that of a very pissed off Robotnik.

“What the hell, man?” Sonic snarled, throwing his hands out to the sides in exasperation. Robotnik simply shrugged, hitting some buttons on his gloves and turning the attention of his egg bots towards him, Knuckles, Spirit, and even Tails.

“Are you forgetting that I am being portrayed as the bad guy here? It’s my job to make your life a living hell.” Robotnik rolled his eyes like he was explaining this to a five year old. Sonic had lost most of his sense of humor upon witnessing the love of his life almost kill herself, and he frankly didn’t have much time to even throw in a good natured joke when he was trying to take out a bunch of robots while his friends did the same.

Meanwhile, Y/n had other problems.

Shadow kept trying to yank the remote control out of her hands, presumably to turn back on Metal Sonic so that he could kill them. But she wasn’t having it. 

“Quit groping me!” She snarled between panted breaths as she countered all of his punches and smacks, clutching the remote tightly between her right fingers. She was in a very unfortunate position with him practically straddling her on the ground, eyes full of fire and rage as he tried to get the upper hand. But just as she had managed to land a punch to his face, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that could prove useful.

Shadow’s gun.

♡♡♡

Spirit’s baseball bat collided with three of Robotnik’s bots, knocking them into the oak tree beside her almost instantaneously. She let out an exhale, but her eyes were already on high alert, searching for any more signs of danger around her. She had lost track of where Y/n had gone after witnessing her almost kill herself, and she was frankly feeling rather light headed. But that wasn’t important right now. The important thing was to get them all out of here safe.

And alive. 

Tails, who was never really one for being on the front line in battle, timidly hid behind her legs while he watched with hearts in his eyes as she took out a bunch of the egg bots. The determination and the fire in her eyes… the way her hair swung about in her ponytail with her motions… She was beautiful. 

Knuckles sidled up next to them after having taken out a bunch of the other bots as well, followed shortly after by the Blue Blur. Sonic let out a frustrated groan as another hoard of bots began to carreen their way towards them, lasers at the ready. Robotnik stood under the cover of his old drone not too far away from them, and it was then that Sonic hatched a plan.

“Guys, if we can get those controller gloves away from him, then maybe we can stop the drones long enough to get Y/n.” Amazing how even in the most dire of circumstances, Sonic’s first instinct was to find a way to make it to his beloved girlfriend.

Ex-girlfriend.

Gotta stop doing that.

Spirit and Knuckles immediately stepped up in front of Sonic and Tails, already beginning the process of punching and smashing the next line of robots. Even Tails was able to prevent some of the bots from getting too close by whacking them with his tails and with random sticks he was able to pick up on the ground. Using their amazing fighting skills as his que, Sonic sped through the darkness the trees gave him before coming to a stop just behind Robotnik. Thankfully, the man had been captivated by the fight as well, his eyes trained steadily on the fight as one hand controlled the bots and the other stroked his unwashed mustache hairs.

Disgusting, Sonic thought bitterly. He would make sure that this man would never harm another person again. 

He slowly took two more steps forward, and the second Robotnik’s glove was within his view, Sonic ripped it off of his hand and slammed it against the ground with a rock. Robotnik let out a choked scream in surprise, cursing himself for being off his game and blaming it on Y/n’s hate filled punch, he turned only to hear the static sound of his precious controller being destroyed.

“NO!” He screeched like a little girl, not knowing how to defend himself in the absence of his beautiful bots. He dove towards the little blue hedgehog, seeming to have forgotten that Sonic was… well, Sonic. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” 

“I just saved my friends,” Sonic answered boldly, stomping on the controller again for good measure. When he watched the drones drop dead by Spirit, Tails, and Knuckles, he knew for sure that they were toast. Now just one more thing left to do.

Sonic slowly reached into his right glove and pulled out a tiny little object. It was small enough for Robotnik to not quite figure out just what it was, and it was only when Sonic held it up towards the burning flames in the trees that Robotnik understood.

A golden ring.

Robotnik, for the first time in his life, was speechless. 

He could only watch as Sonic closed his eyes momentarily, then threw the ring onto the ground before him. Instantly, the ring began to glow and spin before opening up a portal to some other world. Robotnik recognized it as the Mushroom Planet at first, but this one looked a lot darker. More nutrient-starved. It would be impossible for Robotnik to try and get any supplies for his drones on a planet like that. Even when he was on the Mushroom Planet, at least he was able to find some watering holes and mushrooms that didn’t seem poisonous. 

This was it.

“It’s all over isn’t it?” Robotnik asked dazily. Sonic wore a very rare expression. No ounce of mercy could be seen in his searing emerald orbs as he stared down at the pathetic man who used to be a mad scientist. He wasn’t planning on pushing Robotnik in. Robotnik was going to crawl in himself.

Like the pitiful excuse of a human that he was.

Robotnik glanced around at the burning vegetation and destroyed babies he had once cradled in his arms. The little beings that came out of his egg sack (see what I did there?) They were all destroyed. He had gone through so much trouble to come up with this beautiful plan, this beautiful robot, only to have it taken down within seconds by a couple of angry hedgehogs?

Maybe he should find another hobby.

Maybe Agent Stone had been right all those times he had tried to steer him down another path. Maybe he could find some other outlet for his personal problems that didn’t have to do with forcing his wants on other people and hurting them if they didn’t go with it straight away. Threatening people and making them try to kill themselves just because they were weak. Maybe if he had been a better person, then none of this would have happened. Maybe then he and Agent Stone could have been happy. Maybe then he could have been friends with the hedgehogs. Even though they were painfully annoying.

This was it. Robotnik was never a lion, was he? No. He had pretended to be a lion, always putting his bark before his bite. Always trying to use his smarts and his pride to trump character. He thought he was better than everyone else. And then he got punched in the face by a girl.

The true zebra surrendered. 

“Well played, Sonic,” Robotnik had to commend the alien creature. Sonic’s eyes widened momentarily at the first comment he had ever received from this man. “Well played.” 

And with that, Robotnik drug himself forward and fell through the portal.

♡♡♡

Shadow’s gun glinted in the dancing flames of the trees from his tool belt. 

Y/n stared up into his angry red irises and immediately went limp. Shadow freezes momentarily, confused by her sudden actions. Why had she stopped fighting him? He enjoyed it when she fought him, it brought up some weird emotion of adrenaline and plea-

“Dumbass.” 

Wait, what? Shadow felt a strange lightness on his waist. He glanced down only to hear the sound of a gun cocking. 

“Shit.” He cursed, looking up to be met with a very shocking sight.

There Y/n lay beneath him, her teeth gritting as tears streamed down her glowing e/c orbs. Her hands were trembling as she held the gun to his head, trying her very hardest to fight against the debilitation that he put her under. He made her want to die just by looking at her, let alone touching her. And now she had to make him stop. He glanced to the side by her head and felt a draining sensation through his chest when he saw what used to be the remote controller for Metal Sonic. She must have found a way to smash it at some point.

But then he realized something. 

“You’re a fool,” He scoffed, shaking his head. “A beautiful fool.” 

Y/n didn’t respond, but the shift in her expression let him know that she heard him perfectly. 

Wait. 

No, she thought. This wouldn’t work. He isn’t afraid of the gun. He isn’t afraid of it because he knows that even if she wanted to, she might not be able to pull the trigger. No, his fear wasn’t of having a gun put to his chest. But what he was afraid of...

Y/n slowly turned the gun around in her hands until it was pressed up against her forehead. 

She placed her finger over the trigger, and Shadow’s facade crumbled almost instantly. He wrapped his hands around hers, trying desperately to yank it away from her forehead. They were no longer physically fighting one another as he sat on top of her stomach, pinning her to the ground. No. The fight was now over the gun Y/n was pressing to her head. But even when Shadow tugged at it with all his might, it didn’t budge an inch. The glowing in Y/n’s eyes explained why. 

But she wasn’t done yet.

“You did this to me.” 

Shadow froze, staring straight into Y/n’s burning e/c eyes as they swirled with a tornado of emotions. Anger, hatred, betrayal, hurt, disgust. 

Sadness.

“You did this to me, Shadow. You made me think that dying would be better than living on this earth. You hurt a perfectly good batch of people, all for what? For money? For something that you didn’t even understand. You hurt me, Shadow.” 

Shadow’s hands fell limp by his sides, and if Y/n didn’t know any better, she could practically see his soul shatter through his eyes. 

“You. Hurt. Me.” 

Shadow instantly began shaking his head, the last bit of denial still trying to claw its way to the surface. 

“N-no, no, n-no, I-I love you, I-”

“You tried to make me kill myself. You. Hurt. Me.” With her final words, Shadow finally broke. Watching all the fire drain from his eyes, Y/n took the opportunity to smash the gun against the side of his head, knocking him out successfully. He slumped onto the ground in an unnatural position and Y/n finally heaved in a shaky breath. She pulled her shaking body up into a sitting position and stared down at the gun in her hands.

A tiny tear drop fell onto the trigger.

She had won.

♡ a.a.

[eleven-times-lively]

The Conversation

In which Fred and reader attempt to heal their wounded marriage. 💕

Summary: You and Fred finally meet again, and begin to reconcile... or so you thought. Word Count: 2205 Note: I tried to make this one longer but I seem to really be in a slump with this? I just feel like it’s horrible??

You took a deep breath in before apparating to Diagon Alley. He most likely wouldn’t have gone to work, but maybe George knew where he was. They were twins after all. Meanwhile, halfway across the continent Fred had apparated back home. 

You took a step into the shop, hands shaking. “Y/n!” George yelled, stepping out from behind the front counter. He pulled you into a hug. “Was wondering where you and Fred were! Wait,” he looked around, “Where is Fred?”

“You don’t know?” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I was hoping he was here.” You looked down at the floor, cheerful expression falling. 

“Fred’s missing?” George’s voice was laced with concern.

“No. Well, not exactly.” You stared up at him, lips pressed into a thin line as you selected your words… carefully. “We’re having a… situation at the moment. Apparated off last night and I was hoping you knew where he was.” By the end your voice was reduced to a whisper, staring dead into George’s eyes, trying not to cry. 

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, y/n.” He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, trying to console you. “Have you tried the burrow?”

“Spoke to mum earlier, he isn’t there.”

“Hmm.” He pondered for a moment. “If there’s one thing I know about Fred, he likes to be alone and isolated when he’s upset. Maybe that helps?”

You thought for a moment, when an idea clicked in your head. “Actually, I think it does. Thanks, Georgie!” You began to head out the door.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going?”

“Romania.” Without another word you apparated away.

***

Fred searched around the entire house before determining that you certainly weren’t there. He thought for a moment, deciding to head to the shop next. If there was one thing he knew about you, it was that you’d want to keep order no matter what. Continuing to go to work was the best way to do that. 

Fred found himself standing in front of the store. His own store and he was nervous to go inside. He stepped inside and was met with a confused George staring at him.

“Fred!”, he exclaimed, though it sounded like more of a question.

“Hey, mate, sorry I didn’t show up today. Is y/n around?”

George stared at his twin for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Is everything okay Fred?”

“She isn’t here?”

“No, she’s not. Left about ten minutes ago. Came here in a flurry trying to find you.”

“She was looking for me?” George nodded. “So she didn’t actually show up for work today, either?” George shook his head. “Any idea where she went?”

“What’s going on Fred?”, George pressed. 

“We had a fight, George. I need to talk to her.”

“Seems that way. Romania.”

“Romania?”

“She went to Romania.”

“Funny. I just left Charlie’s.”

“Wow,” George rolled his eyes, “It’s like you’ve known each other for twenty years and she knows your habits.

“Sure, mate,” Fred forced a laugh. “Thanks.” Fred apparated away, headed back to see Charlie for the second time that day. 

***

You lightly rapped on Charlie’s door, not sure if he was even home or who would answer the door. 

You heard muffled words and shuffling from inside the house. You could have sworn you heard him say, “Back already, Fred? Don’t have to knock you know.” He was mid sentence when he opened the door. “Oh! Y/n.” He stared at you for a moment, sporting a completely blank expression. There were small cracks in his visage that you were trying to figure out, but you were mostly just confused. 

“Is he here?”, you asked, slightly annoyed. 

Charlie took a deep breath in, eyes widening. “Hello to you, too.” He looked you up and down, as if deciding what to do. “If you mean your husband, then no. He left about twenty minutes ago to go find you.” He still hadn’t moved from the doorway.

“Fantastic,” you muttered. You looked back at Charlie’s unimpressed expression. “Any ideas where he went?”

“Look, y/n, I don’t know what is going on with the two of you, and I would love to help, but I’m not in Fred’s head. You and I both know I’m not the brother you should be talking to. Merlin, even Ron might be a better bet. My best guess is that he probably went back home.”

You sighed, “I was just there.”

“How long ago?”

“About twenty minutes ago.”

“Apparating barely takes one. I’d go back.”

“Thanks, Charlie!” He nodded, sending you on your way. 

***

Fred opened the door to Charlie’s house, peering inside. “Charlie? It’s Fred, I’m back.”

“Merlin!” Charlie shouted, walking out from the kitchen. “I moved to Romania for a reason, you know!” He softened, smiling at his younger brother. “What’s up?”

“Where is she?” Fred asked, pushing inside. “I’ve been searching all day and I just want to talk. Yet we can’t seem to cross paths.” Fred scoffed and rolled his eyes upon realising you were no longer there.

“Again, hello to you too. Y/n went back home.” Charlie looked down at you, lips pursed. “Once again, to find you.”

“Merlin,” Fred groaned, “How long ago?”

“Not even a minute. You just missed her. If you hurry, you’ll probably catch her before she apparates off to find you somewhere else.”

Fred profusely thanked his brother before apparating away, hopefully for the last time that day.

***

Fred apparated into the living room, just in time to see you grabbing your broom and heading out the front door. “Wait!”, he shouted.

You turned around in shock, dropping the broom when you saw him. “Fred,” you said, face going dark. You surprised yourself, not expecting to feel so upset and angry when you saw him.

“Hey,” he said meekly, gesturing towards the living room. You both sat down, staring at each other expectantly, each waiting for the other person to speak first.

“Did you mean it?”, you finally asked. 

He blinked at you, trying to find the correct words. “Y/n, I… I don’t know.” He stared at you for another moment, realising his answer wasn’t sufficient. “I was angry, y/n. And to be frank, I don’t know what I want right now. Would you be lying if you said a small part of you wants it as well?”

“I-... Fred, I don’t know. Maybe?” You glanced at him, pain in both of your expressions. A tear began to fall, despite how hard you tried to stop it. “Fred I don’t even know you anymore. I don’t know when we changed, when we grew apart, but I know it was long enough ago that we didn’t notice when we had a chance to fix it.” Your face pinched together, hoping he’d say something.

“Are you saying we’re past being fixed?”

“I-... no, I just think that maybe if we’d have paused and actually looked at our relationship, we wouldn’t have had that fight.”

He nodded in agreement. “Y/n, I don’t know what to do. We were parents first for eleven years, and I guess we forgot that we were husband and wife.”

Your eyes narrowed as your mouth contorted into a frown, trying to fight back more tears. “We forgot that we were husband and wife,” you repeated, choking back a sob. “Deep down, I still love you Fred. That isn’t something that goes away overnight.”

“Somewhere inside I still love you too, y/n. I think we need to try and find each other again.” Fred looked down at you, features downcast as he fought the urge to inch closer.

“I don’t want to lose you Fred, not now. Not after twenty years, not after the war, not after having our kids, I can’t lose you.”

He began to cry, so many bottled up emotions started to soar out of him as he processed what to say to you. “I’m not ready to lose you either, y/n. I have faith in us, and while we may not see it now, I know we can get back to those teenagers that fell in love.”

You gave him a weak smile, some of your restored faith shining through. “If nothing else, at least for the girls. At least for Christmas.”

“For the girls,” he repeated, gently taking your hand. He squeezed it lightly before letting go and standing up. “I’m not sure where to go from here, y/n, but at least we’re on the same page.”

You stood up to meet him. “Thank you for talking, Fred. I was worried you’d never want to speak to me again,” you forced a light chuckle.

“I was just angry, y/n. I needed some time. I was always going to come back, if nothing else but to talk.”

You nodded your head, casting your gaze at the floor. 

“On the other hand,” he spoke, “I think I should stay at the burrow for a bit. We aren’t fixed yet, and I don’t know when we will be.”

“Forcing ourselves together isn’t the right thing to do right now,” you muttered. “What will we tell the girls?” You blinked up at him in concern.

“We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, let’s try and enjoy Christmas, yeah?” He smiled down at you weakly, trying to convince himself to be happy. “I mean, no one but George and Charlie know, right? We can tell them not to bring it up.”

You stared at him, questioning whether you should even bring it up. “I spoke to your mum.”

“Damnit, y/n!” He ran his hands through his hair, stressed as he paced in the living room.

“Pardon?”, you said, turning to him.

“You just had to go and tell mum?! I mean, seriously! For twenty years it’s been nonstop dramatics with you!” His face was bright red as he looked at you, keeping his distance.

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”, you nearly whispered. You were hurt.

“I mean, everytime something minorly inconvenient happens you go and cry to the nearest person that will listen!”

“You left me! You went and cried to Charlie and you left me! Your mum was here and noticed something was wrong! Which, if you weren’t aware, was something you haven’t been able to do in years!” You were now yelling, face red as you tried not to cry.

“You really think that?” His voice was hush, color returning to his face.

“What?”

“You feel like I didn’t notice you, your emotions, for years?” He was crying again, but this time he was upset.

“Well, I mean you never seemed to notice when I’d… slip away.”

“You were just yelling at me for this, y/n. I was being a parent.”

“I know that Fred,” you sighed, shrugging, “And that’s exactly the point. That’s the point of all of this. We forgot to be married for the past eleven years.”

He let out a heavy sigh, realising you were right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “We had a huge fight, realised the cause, then I’m such a bloody idiot that I started another fight over the same thing.” 

You stared up at him, not saying anything. “You should go,” you whispered, now staring down at the ground.

“So that’s it?” He started to pull out his wand.

You nodded meekly, repeating yourself, “Go, Fred.”

“What are we going to do? Christmas is in three days.”

“We could’ve made it work, but you did… that all over again. Go.”

He let out a terse breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Without another word, he apparated away.

***

Fred landed just outside the burrow’s front door. He quietly pushed inside, trying to not be noticed.

“Fred?”came his mother’s voice when she saw him.

“Hey mum,” he whispered, sitting down next to her on the couch. She stared at him expectantly, already fearing what he would say. “I fucked up. Bad.”

“What happened, Fred?” She placed a hand on his shoulder, noticing his tears that threatened to fall.

“We had another fight. It started as a conversation, and for a second I thought we’d be fine, but then I went and started another fight.” The tears lightly streamed down his face.

“Oh, Freddie,” she pulled him into a hug, “I’m sorry.” She separated, looking up at him. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, dear. And I hate to pry, but what are we doing about Christmas and the girls’ birthday?”

“Merlin, their birthday,” Fred’s eyes went wide as he remembered. “What do I do, mum?”

“I don’t know, Freddie.” She looked up at him sympathetically. “I don’t know if this can be fixed in only a few days. Do you think you can act civil without having another fight?”

“Thanks, mum,” he scoffed, standing up.

“I mean it, Fred. You know where you went wrong. Make sure she knows that, and don’t do it again.”

He looked at her, nodding in agreement. “We need help, mum.”

“I know you’ll figure it out, Freddie.” She looked up at her son, smiling. “I have faith in you.”

He returned the warm smile, heading upstairs to process and make a plan. ***

Taglist: @slytherinlovesgryffindor​ @girl22334​ @dralf0yy​ @it-was-three-am​

[ddaengyoonmin]

Faerie Realm 14

Pairing: Ot7xReader; currently mainly Jungkook x reader with past Jimin x reader and um maybe some Taehyung x reader? 👀

Genre: fluff, angst, smut(In previous and later chapters)

Theme: Based kinda on sword art online a lot of similar ideas and themes kinda combining the idea of them trapped in the game, but the world is closer to ALFheim online

Warnings; fiction video game beast killing, (giant turtles it’s not graphic just mentioned) Taehyung gets himself in a predicament. There’s not too much in the way of warnings but let me know if I forgot something.

Word count: 4.4k

Taglist: (no one got back to me on if this taglist is still good or not so I’m just reposting it lol) : @taekookandyoongi @life-anime-food @i-like-puppy-mg @seesawsmin-flower @karissassirak @btsvisuals @vynia

A/n: um... don’t hate me?

Where floor two differed from floor one was its climate mostly it was hotter.  The game had generated similar creatures and plants in most places that were similar to floor one, but everything was just slightly colored more in browns, tans, or warmer colors.  You hadn’t really noticed a trend in the colors but when you think of it a lot of the creatures and plants from floor one were in blue tones, and silvers and deep green. 

The layout of the map was also very similar.  The main town was in a central location just like floor one’s town, and it was also just nicknamed a simple name, “Main 2” was what all of the players were calling it. 

One area though was completely new and different than anything seen on floor one.   Where the snowy ice capped mountains stood in floor one, now stood tall mountains with bright glowing red lava constantly flowing from their peaks. 

No one had been able to get close enough to climb the mountains and see what was at the top yet.  For some reason flying gets disabled once you hit the base of the volcanoes, and you have to climb.  With the lava constantly pouring down the sides, it's impossible to make it up without dying.  No one has even tried to risk it.  But, the theory of some is that the portal to floor 3 sits inside the mouth of the center volcano.  This theory was then further supported by the strange light that some had noticed would shine up from the taller central volcano at night.  Most assumed it was always glowing; it was just so faint that you could only see it when night was at its darkest.  Portal to floor 3 or not, something was up there, and with how hard it was to reach, it had to be good. 

“When you get to level 30 you should pick the extra experience perk over the money when it gives you the option to select a milestone award.” Jungkook suggested to you. “It's not like we don’t already share anyways.” 

“Are you sure?” You sat on the wooden bench, elbow on the table with your hand pressed against your face, staring at your screen, level 29 with your experience bar half way there.

When a player hit level 30 they got the option to choose between a giant sum of money, or a permanent perk for the rest of the game that would increase their experience gained from kills by 50%.  

You did think the experience would be nice to have, leveling up quicker would certainly help you survive.  Then again, so would the money.  It was more than enough money for you to buy you and your whole team all new upgraded armour and equipment, and that would certainly help keep you alive as well.  

Another new thing that level 30 unlocks is potions.  You actually were relieved that the need for your class of fairy was lessened by that.  Now that a lot of players were able to self heal no matter what class they were, you weren’t constantly hassled by strangers on the street to join their teams without healers.  

Even more than that, it put your mind at ease that Jungkook now at level 32 can carry around potions with him wherever he goes. 

You would still have the benefit of all potions you make having extra strong effects due to you being a water fairy.  Hoseok had just reached level 30 this week and he’d discovered this perk in his player profile under his active permanent skills list. 

“I took the experience, I think it's the smartest.  I already make plenty of money kicking ass and being the best at this game.” Jungkook winked at you with that cocky smirk of his stuck to his lips.  You never knew if you wanted to smack him or kiss him when he acted like that, it was a mixture of both. 

The tavern that the two of you sat in was your regular hangout spot now with your team.  Tonight though, it was just you and Jungkook. The girl behind the wooden counter serving beers in giant tin mugs was an NPC with giant breasts and a big smile named Flower, and you could hear her right now repeating a dialogue you’d heard a million times. 

“Welcome to Muspell Tavern, what can I get for ya!” 

“Hoseok took the money.” You commented. “If I took the money I can get you that dagger you wanted to commission?” 

Jungkook shook his head. “No, I already have something in the works for that.” 

This was the first you were hearing this.  You made direct eye contact with him and cocked an eyebrow. 

“Since when?” 

“Since...For a bit alright.  So go with the experience alright.” Jungkook insisted. 

You gave a tiny sigh and nodded.

“It was a close decision anyways, but I’m sure you’re right.” 

------------------------------

One of the great things about Faerie Realm was being able to cure your hangover with a simple press of a button. 

Now, it wasn’t free, but 20 gold is still not the worst price for that throbbing in your head you woke up with that morning to clear up. 

You tapped the sleeping Jungkook on his shoulder and when that didn’t work you resorted to putting your pointer finger on his nose and tapping a few times. 

He scrunched up his face annoyed, but the expression was just so cute you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Time to wake up Kook.  Clear your hangover and let's see what everyone is planning for the day.  I hear Tae and Jin are up already.” You told him. 

Jungkook nodded and sat up. 

Your team had been able to put all of your camp items in your inventory and transfer your camp to a location you found in the woods on floor 2.  So, you and Jungkook had continued to upgrade and build your small tent up to a two room tent with a divider for a bedroom and living room space.  

You got up and left the tent, Jungkook wouldn’t mind if you didn’t wait for him, he might be a while waking up. 

Taehyung and Jin were sitting on logs on either side of the fire pit, each with a wooden mug in their hands. 

“Breakfast?” You asked, chuckling and pointing to the mug in Taehyung’s hand as you sat next to him, your shoulder slightly pressing against his arm now as you scooted to fit next to him comfortably on the log. 

Taehyung didn’t reply for a second, like something had distracted him, he stared at you blankly. 

“Earth to Tae?” You leaned into him pressed against him hoping to jostle him out of his strange state. 

It worked and he shook his head slightly, chuckling and gripping his mug with both hands tightly, staring down into the liquid it contained as if it was some kind of puzzle to figure out. 

“Just, bad sleep.” He mumbled. 

“Ah.” You nodded your head up and down slowly, giving him a look that told him you weren’t buying that but you weren’t gonna press further. 

Jin then spoke up from across the fire.

“Hey can you tell Jungkook that I can’t find that metal that comes from the giant turtles here on floor two?  All of the red turtles here just drop meat, the green ones back on floor one always dropped shell parts so I think we’ll have to travel down there if he wants his dagger any time soon.” 

You looked over at him, confused. 

At that moment Jungkook had walked out from your tent. 

“Jin! Damnit, that was a surprise.” Jungkook groaned. 

“You’re surprising her with you getting a new dagger? Boyfriend of the year.” Jin scoffed playfully. 

Jungkook laughed and punched Jin in the shoulder as he sat down next to him across from you.  Smiling over at you and giving you a cute wink that no one else saw.  Your cheeks warmed up and you felt your stomach start to flutter, it was such a small thing, but you still couldn’t help the wave of happiness that would flood over you when Jungkook would even just slightly flirt with you.  No, you were sure that would never go away. 

“Well. I guess she can know that, since you’ve spilled the beans already.  But, you say anymore and I will kick you so hard you’ll be back on floor one.” Jungkook laughed.

“Noted.” Jin replied, feeling slightly embarrassed to have spilled a secret. 

But, why was that a secret.  Jungkook was collecting materials for his dagger with Jin...did that mean…

“Did one of you open up a blacksmithing skill line?” You gasped with your jaw feeling like it could fall to the ground. 

You heard Taehyung gasp next to you as well, this must’ve also been news to him. 

Jin stood up, his fox ears sticking straight up proudly on top of his head.  He bowed to you and Taehyung with a big grin on his face. 

“Guilty.” He chuckled, sitting back down after his dramatic display. “I figured it would come in handy if our group had our own weaponsmith so I asked around and did the quests needed to open up a blacksmithing and woodworking skill line.  There's still one more skill line called Leatherworking that would be needed if I wanted to make certain outfits and armor.  But, I think I can get there too!” He rambled on excitedly. “I figured my first big item should be for one of you guys, so I asked Jungkook if I could try and make that Shadow Dagger he’s been wanting.” 

 “That's amazing Jin!” You smiled, clapping your hands together. “Well that's settled then! We should all go to floor one today and get some shell parts!” 

“Yeah? You’re fine with that?” Jungkook’s face lit up at your words.  

You nodded “Yeah, It’ll be good for me to just do some grinding right now anyways with how close I am to level 30.” 

The three boys nodded in agreement. 

A sleepy Yoongi now wandered out from his tent with a messy haired Hoseok close behind. 

Hoseok pressed a button on his screen and his hair snapped back to its well styled smooth blue normal look. 

The two of them sat down at one of the other logs around the fire without a word, yawning in completely perfect synchronization causing the rest of your group to break out in laughter much to Yoongi and Hoseok’s confusion. 

-------------------------

You got the whole team updated on the plan.   A simple day of collecting shell parts and you’d all send Jin the materials.  

You had managed to wander off and get separated from your group, you weren’t as worried about that anymore on floor one though, with your level the things in this woods would have a very hard time landing any kind of critical strike on you before your team could get to you. 

The two turtles you’d just fought off were right by a beautiful little creek that you’d found. 

‘I wouldn’t doubt that there are a lot of turtles up and down the creek, I should let the team know…’ you thought. 

But for some reason, you hesitated on that. 

It’d actually been a while since you did anything alone, without one of the boys with you, usually Jungkook or Hoseok. 

So while it was extremely selfish you decided to venture down this creek alone. 

There were a lot of blue and white flowering plants lining the once shallow creek, that was actually getting deeper and wider and seemed more to be almost a river now. 

You fought many of the giant turtles on your way there, your experience bar now hovering so close to your level 30. 

It had been about an hour of walking when you reached the place where all of the water in the creek had been flowing from.  

A large waterfall poured down in a graceful veil from about 30 feet high up on a ledge, falling down into a beautiful pool of water, and in the center of the pool was a tiny little island.  It was only a small six feet by four feet wide sandy little piece of land.  But, sitting there was a beautiful silver chest, with a sparkling blue glow around it. 

Without thinking you excitedly ran toward the water at the chest. 

“y/n wait!” a voice yelled. 

You spun around, your feet at the edge of the water almost about to step in. 

Taheyung stood behind you, now reaching forward and grabbing your shoulder pulling you back. 

“Doesn’t this seem like the type of thing that’s gonna trigger some kind of monster fight when you step foot in the water?” Taehyung asked you. 

You looked around at the calm serene sight with the lovely chest just sitting out in the open for anyone to take.  He's right, too good to be true. 

“Your water attacks probably won't be very strong against it if it ends up being some type of water creature which i wouldn’t doubt.  So I’ll attack it and you just keep me healed alright?” 

Taehyung suggested.

You nodded in agreement.  You couldn’t believe how stupid you’d almost just been, walking into a monster fight alone without a thought at the sight of something shiny. 

The two of you stepped into the water together, just enough so you were up to your ankles.  

That was all it took, Taehyung was right.

Only a few seconds after your feet touching the water a blindingly bright light shone up from the entire pool of water.

It was a white shimmering radiant light that seemed to have tints of all colors of the rainbow reflecting off when you looked at it the right way.

You and Taehyung looked at each other with the same confused expression.

The light which you could only now describe as somehow extremely...loud, shone like that for about 30 seconds before it toned itself down just enough so that you could now see standing in the center of the water, next to the chest, a figure.

"Don't be afraid Water Fairy, Sylph Fairy.  Step forward and take the chest." A voice spoke out.  You squinted your eyes and stared forward at the figure who you could now make out as a woman wearing a white dress.  She had wings as well.  You'd almost mistake her for another player if you didn't know better.

But, something was off about her. 

"I don't trust it." You whispered to Taehyung, leaning in to him.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, staring at the Fairy in the center of the pond with a skeptical gaze.

"I think we may have to step forward more still though if we want to trigger the next part of this.  Be prepared to heal both of us." Taehyung added in.

You took a deep breath in and waded further into the water, Taehyung following next to you.

The two of you were now past where you could stand in the water, and still nothing had happened.  The figure was becoming more and more clear, a glowing beautiful blonde fairy dressed in white silk and adorned in gold jewelry.

Once you made it to the small island, dripping wet and slightly out of breath due to your lack of swimming skill, despite your class being inclined to it you'd never worked on that skill line much.

The small blonde fair stood in front of you smiling with a golden staff now in hand that you hadn't noticed before.

"Take this staff from my hand." Her voice boomed loud and commanding, it seemed as if it echoed throughout the whole floor, too large a voice for the tiny girl in front of you.

You and Taehyung exchanged looks of 'what do we do'

It seemed forever passed before Taehyung finally just stepped forward, arm outstretched and leaning forward towards the large and heavy staff tightly clutched in the girls hands.

Almost instantly a loud crack like thunder sent Taehyung flying back so fast that you couldn't register where he went.

He was gone...

Did he just...

No...

You gulped and felt your stomach tensing and your hands shaking. 

You didn't see him anywhere, but you also didn't see the tell tale pixels floating up towards Faerie Realms sky that happened when a player...

"Take this staff from my hand." Her voice repeated exactly the same as before.

Did you have a choice? Should you run and get help? Could you?

If you tried, would the same thing happen that happened to Taehyung?

Most likely.

You needed a different strategy.

"I don't want the staff I just want my friend back." You spoke sternly at the girl in front of you.

"To get your friend back.  You must take the staff." Her voice boomed out again.

You felt your heart start beating normally again, Taehyung was safe, it was possible to get him back.

That made the importance of doing this the right way even greater.

"How much?" You asked.

A strange thing happened, something you'd never seen this game do.

The NPC in front of you seemed to glitch.  Blue pixels took her place for a split second and you heard the warbling crackle of her sound malfunctioning.

"H-H-H-How M-M-M-uch?" She stammered out.

"How much to just buy the staff from you? If that's what I need to get my friend back." You spoke, not too concerned with the games errors and more concerned with getting Taehyung back safely.

"One, One, One, One," She kept repeating.

"One coin?" You questioned, leaning forward to see if you were catching all of her words.

You went into your inventory and pulled out a single gold coin into a physical item so that you could try and hand it over.

You weren't going to feel bad about exploiting a glitch in a game that could actually cost you or your friends your lives.

The girl glitched once more and held out her hand.  You placed the single gold coin in her palm and she closed her fingers around it, handing you the staff in exchange.

You looked around, waiting for Taehyung to appear, but he didn't.

Another loud thundering crack sounded out and the light returned, only for a few seconds.

When it was over the girl was gone, but the staff remained in your hand.

A notification bubble popped up on your screen.

'Acquired: Restoration Staff of the Blue Pool: Amplifies all healing abilities channeled through the staff'

Your eyes widened, it was perfect for you.  It also had the benefit of being incredibly beautiful.  It was heavy and seemed to be pure gold, smooth all the way down the handle with gold vines etched into the metal, leading up to a blossoming tulip like flower at the top.

Suddenly you snapped back into what was actually important here.

"Taehyung!" You screamed. He hadn't been returned...

"Y/n!" You heard a voice echo back after a few long seconds.

He was alive, you sighed out in relief.  But, you couldn't see him.  You spun around in circles a few times to see if you could tell where his voice was coming from.

"Tae!" You yelled again.

"Y/n! I think I'm behind the waterfall!" You heard him shout.

Without missing a beat, staff in hand you sprinted into the water towards the waterfall, swimming until you got to the tiny strip of land that sat to the side of the waterfall.

"Taehyung you're in there?" You tried to push your hand through the water, only to feel a sharp sting and hear the chime of your health bar taking a small hit. 

It seemed that you couldn't just step through.

"I can't get in!" You whined.

"I can't get out either, I already tried walking through and using all my spells and weapons on it.  It's useless." You could hear the desperation in his voice.

"Wait." You looked at the staff clutched in your hands. "The girl said the staff would help.  This must make the water part or something..." You thought for a few moments. "Okay step back." You nodded to yourself, a small encouraging 'you can do this' as you pointed the flowering tip of your new staff at the water in front of you.

"Okay?" Taehyung, not knowing your plan, still listened on faith that you had a good idea in mind and stepped as far back in the cave as he could.  It wasn't a big cave, about the size of an average bedroom.  If your bedroom was a cold, dark, damp, rocky prison.

You used all of your power to try and shoot an attack from the staff.

Closing your eyes you braced yourself for whatever recoil might come with the attack. But, nothing more than a quiet fizzle and spark came from its tip.

Shit.

"Taehyung, you can come back, nothing happened." you groaned, now going into your inventory to check out the description of your staff to see if it had any helpful tips for using it on the waterfall.

"y/n...I-" Taehyung's voice cracked and he stopped himself, sighing and shaking his head.

"I'll get you out of there don't worry." You yelled to him.

You started reading through the staff's summary and noticed at the bottom a count down reading 52:43 and going down. Underneath it read 'Blue Pool Staff Ultimate Ability: "Moses" this move can part any unmovable water force with a recharge time of 1:00:00'

"Oh." you whispered.  So the small fairy must've used the staff to part the water and emerge from behind the waterfall, you just hadn't seen her come out because of the light.

"Taehyung you're gonna be okay!" You giggled. "You just have to wait 50 minutes."

"Oh?" He yelled back excitedly.  You could hear the relief coating his exclamation.

"Hey y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna wait with me right?"

"Well I kind have to, I'm the one with the staff."

silence for a moment.

"Well you could leave and just come back."

"Me going off on my own didn't work out so well last time, I think the buddy system is a good plan." you chuckled.

"Y/n I love you."

You felt your stomach fall to the floor and a chill run through your spine.

No. He didn't just say that.

Not him. Not Jungkook's best friend. Not when you already struggle so much with...

No. Hearing this from Taehyung was not good. Because you might actually...

“Y/n?” Taehyung called out from behind the almost unreal blue veil of water separating the two of you. 

“I’m still here…” You spoke quietly.  Not quite sure how to respond to his confession. “I just don’t know what to say.  Jungkook is…” 

“I know.” He cut you off.  

You couldn’t see him well, you wanted to just push through the water and run over to him, shake him, ask him why the hell he thought it was okay to say this to you now. 

“I just thought you should know.”

"Do you want me to say something back to that? Taehyung what the hell." You felt tears now rolling down your face.

"I just...I'm tired of just thinking about it every day and not being able to say it. Jungkook is my best friend. I know. I'm an asshole for this. I know. But...I just can't help it."

Your knees were growing weak, you slowly sat yourself down cross legged on the flat stone ledge you'd been standing on.

"Taehyung. I can't say anything back. No matter how I feel. You know that." You spoke out so softly that you weren't sure if he'd even heard.

It was quiet for what felt like almost the whole remaining hour.

"I think I do want to know." Taehyung broke the silence.

"What?" You replied back dryly. You'd zoned out into thoughts of Jungkook leaving you if he ever found out that once again you were feeling like doing something unloyal.

"I want to know how you feel about me. I need to hear you say it. It's not fair to feel these things and not say they are real." The pain in his voice bleeding through the water between you.

"No." You whispered, digging your fingernails into the palm of your hand.

"Y/n..."

"Stop." You sobbed, your eyes clenched shut, trying and failing to make walls so the tears couldn't escape.

"I love you." He said once more.

At that moment a small ding sounded and a notification popped up that your staff had recharged.

"I'm letting you out now." you muttered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and standing up shakily.

You pointed the staff at the waterfall and a bright light came out from the tip.

The rushing water now seemed to have an almost invisible quality. You could see Taehyung standing on the other side, looking almost as much of a mess as you.

"I-" You managed to get out, but nothing more.

"Do you love me back." His voice cracked again on his last word.

You felt your lips trembling as they tried to let the words slip past them. You couldn't say it though, you didn't feel like you could.

How could you tell Jungkook's best friend that you'd always admired him from the moment you saw him? That when you fell asleep on his shoulder, you felt warm and comfortable? That sometimes, right before you'd drift off to sleep you'd imagine the feeling of your lips on his...

Before you could stop yourself you were leaning forward to do just that.

With no hesitation his hands reached around your waist to lay flat against your lower back and pull your close against him.

His lips were soft and gentle against your own moving slowly as if he was trying to drag the moment out as long as possible. You could hear him let out a small happy hum when one of your hands reached up to ruffle the hair on the back of his head gently.

This moment was good. This moment felt right.

So why was it so bad, and it felt so wrong.

You pulled back from Taehyung, your lips trembling again, you recoiled your hand away, as you should've done at first.

"This is a fucking brilliant trend you're getting into y/n." A familiar voice came from behind you.

Shit.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that.  (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind.  I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep.  Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row???  So we might see her right away??  No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before?  Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave.  --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What?  Is she reading a childrens’ book?  --Oh.  She’s eulogizing Gamzee.  So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person.  (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point.  Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup???  --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side.  That would make sense.  You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much?  Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again?  Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it.  ...Huh.  Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia.  Phew!  Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here?  Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense?  And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah.  I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them.  That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way.  You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm.  It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL.  Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something.  And a black tail?  This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe.  Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress.  Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN.  I don’t see anything over her mouth!  Did she stick something in it, or drug her?  File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair.  Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then?  --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember.  Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade?  I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun.  AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl.  How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK.  Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like.  Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts?  Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text?  What color exactly... “#D00009”?  Huh.  That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707.  In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago...  no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color.  (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out?  That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image!  FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power.  Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!?  D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right?  Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear?  I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck?  WHY would you do that?  Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”?  What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh?  Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden.  Properly dramatic?  You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative.  Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now.  From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring.  I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um.  What?  Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again???  Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping.  I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though.  Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads.  (But still June.  Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course.  (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty?  We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence.  (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit.  And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve.  Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her?  Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion.  Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh.  Hm... huh? hhhh.  huh?  what, but.  Why would.  ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange.  Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?)  Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave?  Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe?  Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update.  Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed.  For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it?  Or skimming it?  But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that.  Weird.  Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here.  About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really?  That was speculated about?  :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything. 

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side.  To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers.  Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up.  Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character. 

:p

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out. 

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy.  --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid...  but I think we can make an exception here?  I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half.  Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria? 

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight.  BUSY day I had.  Y’all take care!

[zani-is-a-stan]

suzani watches the Sherlock unaired pilot

Opening

-       This version of John looks way more old and way more dad

-       That close shot on the gun tell the viewer that John is suicidal

-       The dark silhouette of the cupid statue kind of stands out. Given how the cinematography and shot framing is a lot sloppier in this version, I don’t think this is intentional. But if it was intentional, this would be a signal to the viewer that this is a love story.

-       Mmm, pass on both Anderson’s beard and this way of introducing the concept of a Sherlock

-       This title & credits sequence is so dated

-       Anderson with no inflection is boring

-       Dinner with wine is not a great place for John to be saying he’s broke

We meet Sherlock & Molly

-       We start to see the beginnings of the geometric and precise framing that are the signature of the show in that one shot of Molly behind the glass

-       Its nice to see that Molly’s character required almost no adjustment between the two versions. Given that she was the first character original to the show instead of the books, it’s nice to see that she stuck the landing so perfectly

-       It’s starting to be really obvious how loose the editing is. There’s a lot of dead air at the beginning and end of every shot before each cut. Much better in the final version.

The lab

-       This version of Sherlock seems a lot more accurate to the book Sherlock from Study in Scarlet than the series ultimately ended up being. He’s softer, more interested in interacting with other people than the antisocial, high functioning ASD (where’s the fic that explores that?) twanging brain haver he is in the first episode of season 1

-       I want to read a take on Sherlock that discusses him as having ASD and interprets the violin playing and the mystery solving as his stimming techniques

-       The camera shots in this scene are really starting to stand out as very different from the show. It’s not just the editing which is kind of thoughtless – these shots are poorly composed and poorly planned. I don’t think it would stand out so much if the final version of the show didn’t make so many deliberate and stylized decisions regarding with the shots and editing.

The apartment

-       The extrapolation of john’s family based on the phone became much cleaner in the aired version

-       Comic sans! I mean, mrs Hudson is better than that.

-       Mrs Hudson definitely checked out john’s butt …

-       “can I just ask … what is your street?” this was very good, if repetitive

-       Sherlock needs an assistant? This sherlock has a need for human connection that the other one doesn’t – and he has a lava lamp.

-       Ugh the apartment at 221B baker st looks so much more vintage in this setup. Not a fan.

-       This sherlock definitely cares more about what other people think than the final version.

-       Mrs Hudson is a much softer, premade character in this version. I like the final version better. She seems stronger that way.

The cab ride

-       So boring. Such greenscreen. Wow.

-       not just the greenscreen. the difference in the shooting and finishing of this sequence in the pilot and the aired episode is so incredibly improved that you can hardly believe there were part of the same thing.

-       TOO MUCH SYNTH

-       Sherlock has a far too human response to john’s compliments and more doubt in how accurate his deductions are

The crime scene

-       Im glad they changed sally’s outfit, and smoothed out sherlock’s taunting of her and Anderson’s affair. Ugh I wish they’d kept sally around. This show needed more normie/casual sherlock opponents. Lack of closeups in this scene do it no favors

-       They cut the Rache/Rachel clue. And btw, I do love how this was inverted from the book presentation in the show.

-       “no, there are two women and three men lying dead, keep talking and there will be more” – this sherlock prioritizes people over mystery solving, and that’s a little more humanizing as well.

-       When he’s deconstructing the scene around the woman in pink, there’s a switch in sherlock’s voice when he’s off camera. I’m wondering if maybe that’s a stat actor reading the script for some reason, or if they recorded the dialogue and the camera angles at the same time and forgot to switch when they were editing that shot? Makes sense given how messy the editing is throughout the pilot.

-       “do you know you do that out loud?” “sorry, I’ll shut up” “No, don’t worry, it’s fine” (pleased smile) --- this exchange is so accurate to book Sherlock and Holmes

-       This is not the same sally as the first episode. I had to check because I have a little bit of face blindness and there weren’t any closeups, but it’s definitely not her. Interesting how the actress who ultimately played her changed the inflection but brought very little new to the blocking.

a bit inbetween and the pink case

-       No Mycroft, hmm. Don’t care for it. It added a lot with a really nice red herring feel.

-       John returns to his place for absolutely no reason narratively.

-       I don’t care for the red herring moment where john looks at the pink case and wonders if sally was right and talks out loud about it.

-       The end exchange of this scene is awesome and should have stayed. “Donovan said you get off on this.” “And I said danger and here you are.” “DAMNIT!” It’s very funny, and it’s a fun spar between the two rather than the ultimate resigned tolerance that series John seems to settle into by season 2.

do you have a girlfriend? a boyfriend?

-       Sherlock not eating is a brilliant touch, I think that should have been there.

-       This version of the girlfriend boyfriend conversation is far more successful than the aired version, although I prefer the setting in the aired version. It’s flirtier, and the “Everything else is transport” line carries implications I prefer to the one we saw on on the official version.

-       Sherlock knowing the cab thing ahead of time really lowers the stakes.

-       Angelo and the headless nun thing is fucking beautiful. (although angelo is a bit of an upstager) But, the change in the plot to the John running and leaving the cane behind in the final version is much more relevant to the story.

-       Ok, so the cabbie drugging Sherlock did show us that John is smart in his own right (we never got enough of that), but it showed us Sherlock fucking up in a way that is inconsistent with the show version of that character. For us to buy that Sherlock is other level super genius instead of just very smart, he can’t make this kind of mistake. If he can’t make a mistake, then John can’t prove his own intelligence. I do think it was a good idea to put the police back in his apartment now, as it gives us more interesting and fun things about those characters, and the ultimate build to the cab ride and the incorporation of modern technology really contributed to the modernizing of the adaption.

which pill

-       WHOA that cabbie did just very much threaten to molest or rape Sherlock. Although if there were no women or gay men on the script team, I can totally see the writers not realizing that this line had that connotation.

-       And this version requires a lot more explaining of plotholes with dialogue in a way that is avoided in the final verion. This is unquestionably good, because there’s nothing more graceless in filmed stories than having plot explained with words, especially by a villain.

-       Taking the pills out of the bottle looks silly.

-       Final version cabbie is better. More self-satified and mean.

-       “Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie” is a way better line in the final.

-       Taking him out of the apartment and away from the police phone call was A+ the right choice.

-       Everyone know the best cops scream “Who is firing, who is firing?” when someone fires a shot.

i’ve got a blanket

-       Sherlock saying “Yeah, maybe he beat me, but he’s dead” is a far shot from the man who shook a dying man and demanded to know if he was right or not. Again, this Sherlock is far more human and far less computer.

-       That bit with mrs Hudson at the end was unnecessarily mean, I’m glad they cut it

-       “I’m his Doctor.” – this lines should have stayed forever.

Overall thoughts

Ok, so overall changes between the pilot and the aired first episode. Plot was a lot more polished. They scrubbed every trace of human need from Sherlock, which I think was a good choice, at least for the beginning of the show. His literal only love is his own abilities as the show airs, which leaves him with a very interesting and exploitable weakness – his arrogance, where as pilot Sherlock doesn’t seem to care all that much when he makes a mistake. We did lose a couple of scenes that had a lot of good chemistry in them, but I think the plot was much improved overall for the changes. The change of Sherlock from being casually mean to people like Anderson to swatting away an irritating fly is very successful. The focus of Sherlock’s relationship with Lestrade seems of a higher priority than Watsons a little bit, so I’m glad that changed. The lead up to John shooting the cabbie was much better in the final

Honestly the pilot doesn’t look like a pilot as much as it looks like a proof of concept piece. The budget was obviously smaller: that’s why they reused the same restaurant set, it’s why the final confrontation took place in the apartment rather than a second location, that’s why the effects are missing or budgety, that’s why the editing was low-end. This as a pilot was sold on the impact of the actors and the bones of the script, not on any of the look that would ultimately make the show what it was. The color work between the first and second version of this alone was amazing.   I also think that the hair change in Sherlock was an excellent choice. It offsets BC’s face/head structure in a way that plays into the strangeness of the character in a much better way. Similarly, the coat and scarf that he wears in the series do exist in the pilot, but aren’t really a signature of Sherlock’s on-screen shape design in the same way.

I think the only thing I would’ve kept is the inflection, delivery & read on the girlfriend boyfriend scene, and the return of the “I said danger and here you are” exchange.

There’s a lot of talk about Sherlock’s sexuality and what was cannon in the books. TV Sherlock they seem to be confused about (Belgravia as an episode left me really confused about what statement the writers were trying to make there, which implies that they’re either not completely sure either, or they’re too straight to understand what they’re doing). In the books, Holmes chooses not to have romantic relationship because it stops his brain from working clearly – it’s a deliberate choice based on the Victorian concept of sex (and women, because they are clearly only sex objects) diminishing the capacity for clear thought and mental performance. This is not the same as him being asexual or aromantic as we not aro/ace people understand the concept in 2019.

Based on the scene as it airs, the girlfriend/boyfriend scene would leave me with the opinion that Sherlock is not just asexual but also aromantic. Possibly one of these by choice rather than nature. Based as how the scene plays out in the unaired pilot, I would think that Sherlock is celibate and also attracted to John, more likely gay than bisexual. (There was quite a bit of smoldering going on in the Sherlock to John direction.)

[the--blackdahlia]

This Life Chapter 7

Title: This Life Chapter 7

Summary:  Dean Winchester is the Vice President of the motorcycle club The Hunters. After almost 7 years in prison, he's free. But things have changed and Dean has to figure out how to put things back together.

Warnings: Language, violence

AN: Thank you @sams-serialkiller-fetish ! And the song for this chapter is Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf.

Dean and Benny were sitting at a truck stop outside of Phoenix. Of all times, of all places, they were starting to run low on gas. They had been so excited about the pie place, they forgot to fill up before leaving New Mexico, which would have easily got them over the California line. They were on high alert as they put gas in their tanks.

“You hear that?” Dean asked, looking over at Benny. Benny looked around, listening. Over the sound of semi’s, he could hear it. The roar of a motorcycle engine.

“Shit!” BEnny said. “We gotta get out of here!” They hung up their nozzles and started their engines, flying out of the truck stop like their lives depended on it. Which, at this point, it did. “We should’ve filled up in New Mexico!” Benny yelled to Dean as they raced along.

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Dean yelled back. He looked into his side mirrors to see who was following them. Four bikes. Red, black, white, and pale yellow. “Fuck man! They’re calling out the big boys!”

“We must really be a threat to them!” Benny said.

“Well, we did kinda blow up their last clubhouse!” Dean shot back.

“Shit! I forgot about that!” Benny said. “No wonder they sent the princes after us!”

The Horsemen was founded by four men that went by the names Azazel, Alastair, Ramiel, and Asmodeus. No one really knew who they were or anything like that. But the four founders were called the Princes, and they rode bikes that matched the colors of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse. The other members usually chose to ride something else, opting for grey or charcoal more often than not. For as long as anyone could remember, Azazel and John had been at each other's throats. There hadn’t been a moment of peace between the two groups. And then Alastair declared war on Dean, which led to mistakes being made but the Hunters pushed the Horsemen out of Texas and settled them in Arizona.

And if one of them had done something to Sam, they wouldn’t even be in Arizona anymore.

“It can’t be much farther to the California line, right?” Benny asked.

“And you think that’s going to stop them?” Dean asked in return. “There’s not a wall or anything!”

“I’m just thinking they aren’t stupid enough to follow us and deal with Samcro or the Mayans. Or whoever’s territory we’re walking into!”

“I dunno! They look pretty stupid to me!” That’s when a shot was fired, going right past Dean. “Holy fuck! I think they’re shooting at us!”

“Do something!” Benny said. Dean reached around to the waistband of his pants and pulled out a gun. With one hand on the handlebars and one with the gun, Dean returned fire at the following bikers. He had become skilled in using his mirrors for targeting. He doubted that he would be able to hit them, but at least he could say he went down swinging.

“God damnit! They’re like angry hornets! They just don’t stop!” Dean yelled. Benny pushed his bike faster, hoping that Dean was right there with him. They had to get into California and hope that the four princes weren’t stupid enough to follow them. Traffic was starting to appear on the road. Dean and Benny took advantage of it, dodging in and out of cars, hoping that civilians would stop them from shooting. But also praying one of the cars wasn’t an on-duty cop.

“Seventy-five miles to go!” Benny said, motioning at a green sign as they passed. “Seventy-five miles to California!”

“Think they’ll give up?” Dean asked.

“No!” Benny told him. “We just have to keep doing what we’re doing!”

“Yeah! And risk getting pulled over by a cop!” Dean was trying to think of what to do. That’s when he looked in his mirrors and saw another bike pulling up alongside the Horsemen. “Well shit, I think we’re screwed now brother!” Dean said. Benny looked in his mirrors, expecting the worse.

Except when he looked, the other rider pointed a gun at the tires of one of the bikes and shot it out, causing the prince to skid down the road and the other three to stop.

“What the fuck?!” Dean asked. He looked to his left as the other rider sped by them. Wearing a Wayward Sons vest.

“I guess we can slow down some?” Benny asked, glancing over at Dean for a brief second before turning his eyes back on the road. Whoever that was who helped them out was fast, or they knew a secret way. Once the boys crossed the California line and got into Blyth, they pulled off to calm down. Their hearts were racing.

“What the fuck was that?” Benny asked, pacing.

“I don’t know.” Dean said.

“They run us out of Palo Alto but they help us with the Horsemen?” Benny asked. “Are they friend or foe?”

“I don’t know.” Dean said again.

“Do you think they have Sam or know where to find him?” Benny looked at Dean.

“God I hope so.” Dean said. He had taken off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit dude.”

“Well, I guess we should head up to Bakersfield.” Benny said. “I think we’ve still got a few hours to go.” Dean nodded and put his helmet back on. Once he got the answers he was looking for, they were going the scenic way home. He wasn't dealing with another run in with the Horsemen anytime soon.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @i-would-die-for-woodland-demars @dekahg @marvel-af @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @sheris532 @luciathewinchestergirl @bobasheebaby @flamencodiva

This Life Tags: @soulslaststand @jamielea81 @caplansteverogers @becs-bunker @supernaturalwincestsblog

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23

[thisisthedungeonthatneverends]

That’s My Story and I’m Sticking To It

Ships: gladnis, platonic cordio

Rating: T

Words: 1240

Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince’s sworn Shield, bares many a proud scar earned in honorable battle in the name of the crown. Yeah, that’s a load of crap. Here’s how he REALLY got those scars.

When Gladio says "fight with a drunk guy who tried to get handsy with Noctis" what he really means is "juggling knives to impress Ignis." It happened in the staff kitchen at the Citadel. Ignis was so focused on getting the crust for his 6,438th attempt at those dumb Tenebrea pastries just right that he was oblivious to the shields attempts to flirt with him. "He should just be grateful that you're going to all this effort and just be happy," Gladio said as he idly twirled a pairing knife between his fingers. Ignis sighed. "If I can give Noctis the joy of a fond memory shared with Princess Luna, then the effort is well worth it." Gladio rolled his eyes. "That's just like you, Iggy. Happily busting your ass for someone you don't care doesn't appreciate how amazing you are." He punctuated the last line with a flirtatious wink. "I appreciate your attempt at flattery, Gladio, but at the moment I need to focus on measurements." Gladio stopped talking, but could not abide being ignored for long. He eyed the row of knives on the magnetic wall strip and took down two large carving blades. THIS would get Iggy's attention he was sure. He flipped one up into the air and caught it flawlessly. Ignis didn't even look up. So he did it again, then again before soon he was juggling three sharpened kitchen knives. Now Ignis had his back turned. Gladio went on for almost a minute showing know signs of faltering, his dexterity and reflexes learned in years of training serving him well. "Would you assist me for a moment, Gladio?" "Sure thing," Gladio answered. But when he turned his head in Ignis' direction, he forgot in his eagerness that there was a knife in the air above his face, a knife that came down blade first and slashed across the left side of his face, from his forehead down across his eye and halfway down his cheek. "FUCKING SHIT GOD DAMN MOTHER-" Ignis spun around when he heard Gladio's sudden string of expletives. "GLADIO WHAT IN THE BLUE BLAZES WERE YOU DOING!?" Gladio clutched his face, blood already dripping between his fingers. "Juggling knives to get your attention god DAMNIT!" "More like being impatient and stupid," Ignis said while he rummaged through a drawer and produced several hand towels. "Move your hand." Gladio complied and let Ignis press the towels to his wound. "Had you waited until the pastries were in the oven you would have had my undivided attention," he said, his voice softer and more sympathetic this time. Gladio laughed in spite of the pain shooting through his face. "I have your attention now, don't I?" Ignis huffed. "Yes, as well as what's certain to be a gruesome scar to prove it." Gladio wrapped the arm that wasn't covered in blood around Ignis' waist. "As long as I have you to kiss it better it's worth it." Gladio’s face turned fine mild amusement to dread. "Just don't tell anyone about this. A shield is supposed to get his scars in defense of his king, not flirting with his boyfriend." "My lips are sealed. We will devise a cover story to preserve the Amicitia honor." And so was born the story of the night Gladio picked Noctis up from Prompto's house and the two were confronted by a drunk man who showed inappropriate interest in Noctis and drew a knife when he was turned down. Gladio courageously stepped between the prince and the blade, earning a scar of honor.

When Gladio says, "having my strength and worthiness tested by a demigod," what he really means is "using Cor's sword as an air guitar while drunk and alone in a caravan."

Gladio didn't want to admit to anyone else how much recent events had been weighing on his heart and mind. Insomnia had fallen, his father and King were dead, and he had failed his duty as Shield, allowing Ardyn to make fools of them all and Ravus to hurt Noctis. He needed time to quiet his mind, sharpen his senses, and strengthen his will if he was to continue to call himself any kind of servant to the crown.

Which is why, once they had the Regalia safely back in their possession and he was sure Ignis and Prompto could handle themselves in regards to Noct's safety, he separated himself from the group. Some time spent with Cor, someone who he could commiserate freely with, would be just the therapeutic diversion he needed to ensure that he was ready to face the road ahead.

But what Gladio had failed to take into account was the fact that where there was Cor, there was beer. And where there was beer there was a Shield of the King who knew not the meaning of the word "pacing."

Which is how on that night Gladio ended up mostly naked save for boxers and socks with the radio cranked loud enough to summon Bahumut, his Nth beer (he had lost count, really) in one hand and a microphone (ok, it was the hilt of Cor's sword, but really what did it matter?) in the other. Not that he was drunk...but he was, in fact, quite happily plastered. Perhaps had Cor not been on a cup noodle run he would have told Gladio to be careful, but as it stood, Gladio had been left to his own devices.

The song on the radio transitioned into a guitar riff, always Gladios favorite part of any rock song. He set his now empty beer bottle on the nearest counter and held his sword as if it were a guitar. He moved with the music, only not so much in rhythm, head banging along without care for the deadly weapon he held dangerously close to his body.

One particularly strong surge forward and he was falling. He thinks his forehead may have colored with the edge of the countertop and maybe he fell on top of the sword, but it was a blur once he hit the ground.

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

Gladio groaned as his eyes slipped open against his will. The light was to bright and the drum solo in this song was to heavy. Before Gladio realized that the sound was not from the radio but in fact was the pounding of his own drunk and injured head, Cor spoke in a volume Gladio deemed much to loud (It was a normal inside voice)

"What in the actual hell were you even doing, Gladiolus? You damn near bleed to death."

Gladio hadn't the presence of mind to wonder how he had gotten to a bed, but he sat uobin said bed and instantly felt searing pain in his chest and forehead. He cried out and slumped back down.

"On second thought, I don’t want to know. Just sleep it off tonight so you can meet Noctis and the others in Lestalum tomorrow. Take that sword with you, I do t need it here as a reminder of my pupils stupidity"

Well shit, Gladio thought. How was he going to explain his injuries. It had to sound bad ass.

So somewhere in his alcohol and concision induced delirium, he dreamed up the epic tale of the Blademaster and his trials, a test of a true Shields worth. It was as good a story as any, he supposed. Definitely  better than the humiliating truth.