#fun fact like half of these are done without pen pressure

[rindomness]

outfit dump for my p5 arcanaswap ng+ au that @englishbreakfastandquills has been helping me with (read: listening to me ramble madly about for hours and occasionally providing input. thank you bestie <3)

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

Hey. Recommendation to throw out the poison right now. Like. *Right now*. Please allow me to tell you about my process with some really harmful habits...let's call it "substance abuse" (it's not always that, but it's a good enough example): So I used to be addicted, right, always playing with fire, and it made me feel sinful and miserable. One day, I threw out everything that had to do with that. And the feeling of freedom that came with it was unparalleled.

...But I was addicted, right? So guess what happened. I immediately went back. I completely undid the decision by doing the bad thing again. And it made me feel so hopeless and ugly. But guess what I did. After I was done?? I threw it all out again. New freedom, here we goooooooo -

...You'd think so. Back at it again. Oh, come on.

(it must have been hundreds of times now, by the way.)

But there's this story of a man stuck in my head who wanted to quit smoking and he just kept declaring the word over himself *while* smoking. He didn't forcibly try to change himself, he accepted that he needed to wait for Jesus to change him. "While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

So he kept praying and quoting the Bible WITH the stub in hand. I don't actually know what became of him, but I like to believe that he woke up one day and was free. Even if he wasn't, his testimony was so encouraging to me that it fed my own journey.

So do you know what I do?

I allow myself to do the thing as much as I want to, but afterwards, I throw everything out every time. Declaring that I know that I'm free.

Do you know what this does?

It contrasts the wonderful relief that I feel about being allowed to behave like the addict I am - oh the grace, the mercy of the fact that I do not have to forcibly pressure or guilt-trip myself into avoiding this shit when I know perfectly well that I can't! - with the amazing feeling of freedom after I throw the stuff out, and then with the trouble that I have to go through to get myself new supplies. Every. darn. time.

I have to completely restock every. stupid. time.

Allowing yourself to be free to behave like an addict is no longer fun the more you become aware of the structures that get you there. The more you have to walk through the complete re-stocking process, the more conscious you become about what you are doing. Getting the utensils slowly becomes watching yourself do active steps. Those turn into crossing conscious barriers.

And after some time? ...well, I've found myself valueing the feeling of freedom more and more over the physical urge of stepping into well-known harm. My defenses slowly strengthened by focussing on the positive that the freedom gives me.

It's a process that takes time. If I use smoking as an example, it means buying a pack, smoking the whole thing as usual and then throwing out the lighter. I'd have to buy a new lighter every time. After some time, it might mean smoking only half the pack and then being strong enough to throw out the rest. It might go down to one cig and then up to half the pack again, but I'd throw out the pack, AND the lighter EVERY TIME, NO MATTER HOW MANY ARE LEFT.

After some time, I'd notice that I'd like to spend my money on something else, but my hands keep fidgeting. I'd need something to keep my hands busy. So I'd buy some playdough, or pick leafs from trees, or crumble pieces of paper. I'd also make a conscious effort of walking past the cigarette machine on my way to work. Maybe I can take an alternate route until I know that I can pass it without looking. Then I'd go back to twisting a pen, then a cig between my hands, then I'd go back to picking leafs. Then I'd build a better crowd of friends.

Just...this endless mercy of doing what you can in the moment. If you can avoid it, do that. If you can't, it's okay, then do that, but without guilt. Slowly, gradually, freedom will cause you to want to hold yourself to higher standards.

I've found that my resolve to keep up the good work grows stronger over time. I'm simply valueing the freedom and the peace too much.

Right now, I wouldn't actually call myself an addict anymore. It's become so easy to avoid my thing that I'm down to doing it maybe once every 1.5 months, and I immediately quit after 1x too. It used to be a daily struggle of multiple attempts, so. I can still get better, but believe me that I am taking that win.

Yeah so I don't know if this helps, this is just my own experience. But what you don't have, can't harm you. Don't let that "poison", whatever it is, sit in your closet, "just in case". Throw it out. Be consequent.

I believe this can work for every bad habit. Smoking, drugs, alcohol, porn, gambling, self-harm, whatnot. The first step for me was to give myself permission to do as much of it as I wanted, because obviously something in me needed it a lot. So I started to see it as a "good" thing in the sense of that it was a valid means to fulfill a need. From there, I was able to slowly build towards an understanding that discipline and its rewards are more gracious to me in the long run.

Throw it out. Then buy it again. Throw it out. Repeat until you're sick of it, no matter how long it takes. Throwing it out will become your fortress, the first evidence that you are capable of good, and of saving yourself. The Holy Spirit will help you too. Lots of love and God's blessing on you.

I shall consider this.

As for the poison - well, it's actually harm reduction; I'm not going to specify what it is because of how genuinely poisonous it is (I have less than 50mLs and my research suggests it would almost certainly kill me without medical intervention) and easy to get hold of (at least in Australia), but it's an antiseptic and I got it to help with caring for self harm wounds. If I chuck it out now, I'm definitely not going to replace it even if I do go back to self harm in the future, which means that I wouldn't have antiseptic. I've rarely been seriously tempted to drink it (and it's worth noting it's possible I'd find the taste too strong and be unable to drink it; it's very strong stuff) so I consider the risk less bad than throwing it out at this point and needing it later.

Realistically I'd be better getting rid of the sharps I have access to, but hey. Not taking constructive criticism on that. I regret giving up my knife when I did to my brother, as the sharps I still have I probably wouldn't've got if I had had access to the knife still, and what I have now is certainly sharp enough to kill me if I was so inclined. But no, I'm not taking constructive criticism and if anyone who sees this contacts any of my discord friends or even real life family or friends, I will almost guarantee something Bad will happen. Anyway.

Unfortunately not all addictions require other things like cigarettes or cutting.... Ah well. That's a problem for future me if and when I decide I actually want to stop the bad coping mechanisms I'm remarkably good at picking up.

Anyway, thanks for sending this; I do appreciate it. Take care <3

[abovethemists]

Theories for season 3 of Bridgerton

We're 3 days out from the Bridgerton season 3 part 1 premiere so here's my guesses on what will happen based on spoilers, official sneak peeks, and vibes. There's nothing groundbreaking here.

Polin

Part 1 will mainly focus on Colin realizing he's in love with Penelope. I think it'll happen pretty quickly. He's upset by the fact that Penelope hasn't written to him. He's more upset when she blows him off at the ball. He finally talks to her as she's leaving and finds out why she's mad at him and immediately tries to set it right. She ends up attracting Debling fairly quickly and Colin realizes he's made a horrible mistake. I think the scene with Portia telling Penelope that she has done well is after Debling has asked Portia's permission to propose so Pen knows it's coming the night of the ball in the 4th episode. She sees Colin there, realizes she still loves him and can't lie to herself and Debling by accepting him, and runs off. Colin follows her and we get the carriage scene and a marriage proposal to end the half. I think we'll be left in suspense over Penelope's answer.

Part 2 will obviously deal with Whistledown. Colin has much stronger feelings about Whistledown in the show compared to the books so it should be a bigger deal to their relationship. If Pen accepts his proposal before he finds out I can imagine Eloise pressuring Penelope to tell him, or she will. I'm sure we'll get an episode of angst between them before alls well that ends well. I actually like that angst better than the book's "Colin is jealous of Penelope's success as a writer" angle.

Eloise and Cressida

Eloise is feeling lost and adrift without Penelope. Her brush with scandal in season 2 has her afraid to step out of line too much so she decides to actually participate in the season. She befriends Cressida and keeps an eye on Penelope/Colin. Cressida is in her third season, just like Penelope, and her parents are desperate to marry her off. When it appears she's going to be forced to marry some 70 year old man, she formulates a plan to get out of it.

Either the Queen or Lady Danbury issues the bounty for Lady Whistledown. Cressida claims it's her. She may suspect Penelope and try to intimidate/blackmail her into letting Cressida take credit. Cressida hopes it'll get her out of her engagement to the old man. Queer Cressida truthers rise! I imagine the Cowpers' reaction to Cressida being the center of a scandal will make Eloise realize how incredibly privileged she is to have the family she has. I think Eloise will also grow up a bit and realize not all women think like her and that doesn't make them stupid or insipid. I'd like to see Eloise and Francesca together since they're close in the books. I'd also like to see Eloise have scenes with Kate who she looked up to in season 2 for still being single at 26. She can see that not all marriages strip a woman of their identity and happiness in marriage is possible.

Kate and Anthony

Wedded bliss and babies. By the end of the season, Violet will move out with the younger kids and they'll take over Bridgerton House. The flash forward at the end of the season will probably show baby Edmund, securing the future of the Bridgerton family.

Benedict

Gets his heart broken by Lady Tilley, similar to Anthony/Siena in season 1. I imagine their affair starts as something fun and Benedict wants something more while Lady Tilley is happy to be a merry widow and has no desire to shackle herself to one man ever again. Perhaps this makes Benedict realize he does want something more than his heretofore flighty existence. Perhaps he secures his own estate by the end of the season... Ready for more responsibilities and maybe even love.

Violet

Violet is adjusting to no longer being the Viscountess. Kate is now the female head of the household and it frees up time for her to think about her future. Enter Marcus Anderson. I look forward to seeing Violet in bloom. There absolutely must be an acknowledgment from Violet about Lady Danbury/Lord Ledger if Lady D gets in a huff about Violet and her brother.

Francesca

Sweet, introverted, baby girl. She's beautiful and wealthy and connected so will attract a lot of attention she's not comfortable with. She finds a like mind in John and leaves for Scotland (or just the countryside they might leave out Scotland) by the end of the season.

I think this will mark the end of Bridgerton as we know it. Benedict, Eloise and Francesca's stories all take place away from the ballrooms and garden parties we've been used to. After seeing Jess Brownell talk about that distinction, it actually does make sense they did Colin before Benedict. I'm curious to see how they format the show going forward, if they end the Whistledown framing and move outside of London.

I am unsure if we'll see any other future love interests this season. I was pretty certain we'd get a hint of Sophie in season 3, but I don't know. I think it'll be obvious who season 4 is about (Benedict!) by the end of the season though. I don't think we'll see Michael yet. I'm 50/50 on if Philip will show up again. I can't really see where he'd fit in but it's kind of fun how he keeps having run ins with Eloise's family. Maybe he'll encounter Benedict while he's looking at My Cottage since they're neighbors.

[kirazdaha]

HAHAHAHA Every Turk Family has one of those names and unironically mine does too 🫡 Tell your mother thank you she is a very lovely lady

I know all of the artists you listed below because my dad blasts them on the radio everytime we go out... I call it old people music but hey I never said it was bad, they're awesome and I might have memorised some of the artist's songs from how much I listen to them... Barış Manço is a classic without a doubt! Fun fact my parents were able to go to his concert and got a signed picture with him I will always envy how lucky they were 😭 I love how women in the industry made the most iconic songs I hear them often in weddings too! Or clubs, even though I only went to one once I'm not very fond of them...

My questions were do you have any tips or inspiration with how you draw! I love your art and artstyle and it's honestly what I've been trying to achieve for a while, I can't believe I'm learning how to draw men because of a silly lawyer show it's a disease...

(We are just having a conversation at this point) (I feel like those people who speak out loud in public) (I hope you and anyone who's reading this is having a good day :) be kind to yourself and others everyone)

OH MY GOD i envy them too😭😭 also omg that sounds like heaven to me. the other day i went out partying and i felt sooo out of place because i only knew like 3 songs. omg it was so so bad.

hmmm tips and inspiration…. my number 1 tip would definitely be to look at a lot of other artists you like and analyze what exactly you like. and then try to emulate that in your own work. i try to look for inspiration everywhere - artists online, traditional artists, old masters, 3d artists, even theatre and poetry, etc. - doesnt mean that i am equally inspired by them all (because all these things at once sound so scary and big but they really arent!) but rather, i try to be open for anything and that helps me find inspiration :) 

ill try to explain my thoughts more under the cut because this got long:

for me for example, so far i only posted some art i made that was lined (which, i would say makes up maybe half of the art i draw - i mostly sketch and recently have been building up the courage to paint more) and one of my inspirations is meltow. i think if you go over and check out their art youll definitely see it lol. but also i love the clean look some comics have and my friends tell me my art looks like it belongs in a comic which, i guess yeah :) when it comes to colors and composition i LOVE this artists works. i still have a lot to learn and just looking at their works inspires me so much!!!

i will say i have ALWAYS struggled with lineart. its probably the worst thing in the world to me because it never feels right!!! i like lining on paper with harsh inks and stiff ink nibs that allow for like. very little variety in line weight, but i havent done that in over 3 years (i hope i can get back to that). but yes, something about lineart makes me feel so icky when i use any brush that reacts to the pressure you put on your tablet LOL i just hate it. ugh. i havent been able to work it out.

it was only in 2020 i think that i decided to try it out with a thick brush with some texture and no pen pressure. that probably was the first time i got actual lineart that (at the time) i liked done. and then later on, discovering that other artists are able to achieve beautiful drawings with similar brushes AND that lining with a very simple brush can feel so satisfying helped me evolve a lot! until 2022, i actually wasnt able to give my art the kind of finished look that i wanted. so what people consider my style is really just born out of my limits and working with them. that obviously doesnt mean that i dont try to challenge myself as much as i can. i do and i think everyone should! thats what makes art so fun

if theres any good advice i can give to a beginner itd probaaaaably be. okay this is difficult and i feel like im not really qualified for this. as a hobbyist much less so because a lot of the knowledge and skills i acquired was through an intuitive process (i could never stick with habits such as regular studies or warmups or whatever is meant to be good for you) which definitely isnt the most “productive” way but i mean it doesnt have to be. its just a hobby! you dont have to perfect art. but yes, i would definitely say dont stop drawing. youll always be your harshest critic and at the beginning, and especially if you begin at an older age because youve been training your eye your whole life but your drawing skills for only a relatively short time you will notice a lot of mistakes. and youll think you wont achieve the image you have in your head. and maybe you wont (because youll always strive for more and youll never really be satisfied as an artist bla bla) for a while. but you have to keep drawing! try out different strategies, find out how other artists draw, watch speedpaints, try out different papers and pencils, try everything that makes it more fun and keep going! it will all pay off!! 

in my eyes theres also no point in saying “i should wait till im better to draw this idea i have” because if inspiration strikes you you should use that. even though i still sometimes catch myself thinking like that. you can always redraw things later on!! if theres anything that will keep you drawing you should use that! like getting into shows and games that make me want to draw helps a ton LOL people are not joking when they say getting obsessed with one character is the quickest way to improve. i 100% agree!!! if you saw my first nachos you wouldnt even recognize him. not kidding wow this got long. thank you for the questions though!! i hope some of my rambling can help you. feel free to talk to me whenever!

[spencersawkward]

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

[jiminrings]

why do i feel like even if tae is the one who's injured AND caught between stem koo and senior oc's tension, jungkook would STILL be the one who's crying

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

there's fINALLY some sort of peace and redemption between them

taehyung has never been indirectly involved in a palpable situation like this

the last time he was involved in anything remotely close to this, it had something to do with his field trip in second grade

whew god that was a rEALLY pressuring experience for him

it was a split vote to whether they should go to a strawberry field or a newly-opened futuristic kid-friendly interactive dinosaur museum SLASH theme park!!!!!!!

then taehyung picked the strawberry farm that was about 70% dirt

tae's put into a situation again and he doesn't know how to act lmao

"y'okay sweetheart? what's your relation to them?" the kind nurse that's obviously the maternal figure of the emergency ward asks him as she assesses him, a bit of a queue before he could get his leg patched up

he is beyond glad that she asked :D

tae's here to get his leg casted and entertain himself for the meantime!!! his fun isn't exactly correlated to that brooding fucking stem nerd's definition of it!!!

taehyung points to you directly, a cheeky grin on his face as you tilt your head in alert from your seat beside him

"she's my girlfriend!"

you chuckle at his playfulness and even the nurse does so with how proud he sounded, about to scribble it down on her clipboard when someone clearly sounds panicked about it

"she's not his girlfriend," jungkook rises from his slouched position on his seat, wide eyes fixated on the nurse as he shakes his head, trying to make her believe him

it isn't true!!!! that's misinformation!!! that's a crime!!!!

tae snaps his fingers, solemnly shaking his head

"right, my bad!! the two of us aren't in a relationship. actually, the three-..."

god oW

jungkook can't help but whack the back of taehyung's head, their boundary from being semi-strangers in your year you see like twice a day now crossing into semi-friends who aren't reserved with each other jUST because of kook's smack

that's a silent understanding, basically

tae smacks jungkook right back, only stopping on bickering when you intentionally clang your watch on the bedframe to spook them, exiting from the curtain so you could talk with the nurse

being caught in the middle of things cOULD really be fun!!! tae should get involved more often

"so tHIS is why you were outside y/n's dorm when i gave yoongi the cookies!!"

"... you know?"

kook freezes at the possibility that for some way he can't think of, taehyung somehow knows what happened between the two of you

was that why he just hAPPENED to drop by cookies when he was talking with yoongi??

yeah uhm not really

"no. i just know that yoongi hung you out to dry," he snorts because as he recalls it, jungkook looked as pale as a ghost

he didn't really plan to arrive at that time either!!! taehyung just wanted to knock on your door and hopefully drop you his treats then he'll be off his way

he didn't exactly expect to walk in on yoongi looking like he's gonna deck jungkook if only he hadn't yelled out his senior's name

see? it's like the universe just wants taehyung to be at the right places at the wrong times in order for them to eventually fall into place

okay he kinda did take a major L for having his ankle busted but that only means that you and jungkook (even if he doesn't know anything) better make up!!!

“is it bad that i wanted yoongi to punch me that time?” jungkook wonders out loud and he almost wishes he hadn’t, getting an immediate reaction of agreement

“i’ll fill in for him!!” tae half-jokes, getting yet another smack to his shoulder and at that rate, they’d be brothers by tomorrow lmao

“anyways,” he sighs as he leans back to his pillow, keeping his foot elevated. technically, this isn’t his business at all, but what could he do?? he’s sort-of-involved now and jungkook looks like he’s gonna cry out of all people, “you just want yoongi to deck you because that’d absolve you of your guilt.”

kook sighs at that, gripping his hair to keep himself from crying

“but i already know i’m guilty. not only with yoongi, but y/n especially!!”

he whistles at that, getting a mental image with your fists balled because he’s hung around enough practices to photograph all of you for the school paper, knowing that you dO pack a lot of power

“so them decking you is the only way you would feel guiltless?”

jungkook shifts at that, murmuring his answer to the question he’s got thrown

“w-well getting my apology accepted by them would be much appreciated.”

taehyung practically spoon-feeds the answer jungkook need to hear, shrugging carelessly as he watches the boy’s turmoil

god what does he dO?? this is his first interaction with you ever since the incident and he doesn’t know how to act

of all places and scenarios, it just hAD to be in the hospital because stoopid taehyung here decided to run to you while in the rain

as if on cue do you return to the curtained area with a nurse, forms between your fingers

“time to get your x-ray done, tae,” you almost sing-song to him in cheer, being relieved that things were picking up faster than you intended it to

you pat him on the head in an attempt at affection, oblivious to the curious glances that jungkook gives you while he assists the nurse in transferring taehyung to the wheelchair

it’s not until the curtain closes again and taehyung’s gone that you move, hand outstretched to give something to jungkook

.... which is just his share of taehyung’s forms that he needed to fill out so you could get on faster

the two of you are sitting beside each other, chairs close but not exactly close, clipboard in hand and taehyung’s phone at the middle edge of the hospital bed so you could copy his information

jungkook kNOWS he should be focusing on writing tae’s blood type right now, but the spur of the moment nudges him on entirely

"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry."

he squeaks and he has to breathe out after that

well there it goes :-)

you knew that the day wouldn’t have finished without jungkook’s input, having avoided him long enough that you didn’t know what to feel

were you expecting an apology from him??? uhm not exactly

are you commending him for apologizing??? not at all!! thanking someone for apologizing over what they’ve done to you in the first place is just a new low

“i know i can’t take back what i said now, but i truly didn’t mean it. i-i was just so confused but — b-but i’m not making excuses!! what i did was beyond shitty of me.”

oh hold on a second

that’s the first time you heard jungkook cuss

you wring your hands as you try to absorb his apology as much as possible without feeling awkward

ok you’re not as good for tHIS type of confrontation

it’s not the first time you’ve been wronged but this is perhaps the first time someone owned up to their wrong and apologize for it face-to-face

,,,,,, and not just because yoongi gave them a piece of his mind

yoongi likes fighting battles for you at times, even if you don’t necessarily ask him to

you appreciate it, but you kNOW he did not get jungkook off the hook so easily!!!!

you honestly thought that with his temper, he would’ve punched jungkook even if it was gonna make you mad

“it’s totally up to you if you don’t want to forgive me, b-but i figured i could die trying, y’know? you can reject me a couple hundred times and i’ll retry a couple thousand.”

jungkook adds and it makes the corner of your mouth raise in the tiniest most miniscule way

he knows that not only does he need to apologize with words, he also nEEDS to make it up to you with his actions!!! that’s why he plans on-

you pause your writing on the form, the act of you doing so making him freeze all the same as you try to carry on with speaking as inaudible as possible

"well you know now. i like you, that was my fault," you offer in response to his apology, coughing when you realize your mistake. "i liked you, i mean."

ok he deserved that

jungkook knows you probably figured out the hyeji situation already through yoongi, cutting his explanations down because you don’t even wanna hear her name

was it the truth? do you really not like jungkook anymore?

....

......

.........

you simmer in the own silence you’ve created, only being broken when jungkook shyly murmurs

"can't you like me some more?"

you snort at what seemed to be his playful suggestion, chuckling to yourself

jungkook was only hALF-kidding and he bows his head in embarrassment over your reaction, the pen in his hand feeling extremely light with how his hand’s trembling

you resume your writing wordlessly, not even daring to look at your right because jungkook’s trying to make himself as small as possible too

the words are just dying to fall out from his mouth, an unhinged trap he could no longer regulate when it comes to you

"you're loveable. extremely loveable."

jungkook says out of nowhere and you falter at writing taehyung’s supposed food allergies, a quiet curiosity to your words

"how would you know that?"

there’s no thought process behind it as he speaks surely this time, only taking the slightest bit of courage to look at you from the corner of his eye

"because it's you."

,,,,,

HOW are you supposed to react to that,,,

the curtains peek open and a grinning taehyung on a wheelchair estatically waves his hand

you and jungkook split from each other even if you haven’t been that close enough immediately, thankful for the welcome interruption

tae outstretches his arms for you to hoist him up the bed and you agree instantly, oblivious to the fact that he’s sticking his tongue out to jungkook who’s giving him a mean glare for his playfulness

his x-rays are all finished and he’s just waiting for the doc to come and interpret them (even if it’s beyond obvious that his ankle’s broken!!!!) so he could get on with wrapping his leg with a cast

jungkook takes this as a chance to rise up from his seat, snatching the opportunities he can within the timeframe

"what do you guys want from the cafeteria?"

tae beams at that, grateful because fINALLY someone’s asked him

"ooh!! i want-"

"what would you like, y/n?"

jungkook continues as he effectively interrupts taehyung who’s squinting and looks beyond offended ay the moment

his motive is buying <3 you <3 dinner!! not mr. ankle-breaker over here

you catch on to what he’s trying to do immediately, rolling your eyes with a hint of amusement when you plop back to your chair

“i'll have what taehyung wants.”

huh....

so he has no choice then but to ask,.,.,

jungkook clears his throat, his lips curved to a smile but his eyes looking the furthest thing from friendly

"what would you like,,,, taehyung?"

the boy pretend to be deep in thought just to waste kook’s time even more, even throwing in the humming to sell the idea

he’s been humming for half a minute now

“pasta. i want pasta. like, the most expensive pasta they have,” he nods at the amazement he has for himself, sneaking a look to a narrow-eyed jungkook

“c’mon, kook. think about y/n. she’s getting what i’m getting!!”

jungkook’s eyes instantly become brighter, realization sweeping over his features as he tries to hurry because you might be hungry at this point

“right, of course!! i’ll even get dessert :D”

well wasn’t tHAT easy hee-hee

hey maybe getting your ankle busted does lead to better things!!!

jungkook’s never been more excited to pay for overpriced pasta in cash (!!!) and carry up multiple paper bags of food and drinks on the stairs because the elevator’s taking too long

he’s only slightly confused when he walks to your spot that taehyung wasn’t there, even kinda being relieved actually

tae was whisked away for the second and final time to have his leg wrapped up, leaving you and jungkook alone once again

“that looks expensive.”

you remark the moment you see the fancy paper bags, bringing your wallet out to atleast take out a few bills that you think would cover the cost for this hospital dinner

jungkook incessantly shakes his head no, instead making you sit in place so he could turn the area to be a cozy dinner place as best as he could

"i mean it. i'm gonna make it up to you, i swear."

he speaks sometime in the middle of your silent meal, waiting for the time that it’d feel more sincere and not a little forced

ya know he didn’t want to make it seem that buying overpriced dinners correspond to him making it up to you!!!!

"i know."

you answer truthfully because you might have saw this coming, knowing in the back of your head that you wouldn’t put put it past jungkook to be sincere

you hear a noise of surprise when you reply, jungkook immediately putting his hand inside the pocket of his hoodie to fish out something

“your eyedrops, by the way. i meant to give it back to you earlier.”

your eyes skim on the dainty-looking handmade origami box on jungkook’s palm, a fond look he could atleast distinguish

you take it from him nonetheless, unaware at the multiple layers you have yet to know inside said box

“i can always buy a new one.”

he shakes his head at that, scrunching his nose as he mindlessly pokes at the chicken

he thinks back to what he put inside that might’ve been the reason why he didn’t just buy you a new stock in the first place

“i like giving back.”

giving back as in returing feelings too or whatever maybe!!!!! just maybe

he waves you off when you thank him for giving it back, his next words becoming a little weighted on your mind

"open it up when you feel like it. it's up to you."

that was that then

okay maybe not

you’re almost finished with your dinner and you know that you’re about to come home anyway, getting a text from tae that he’s done being wrapped up and is just waiting for his reminders now

why not say what you want to anyway??

"thank you for the lunchbox yesterday, by the way."

jungkook’s the one who’s caught off-guard this time, choking on his rice briefly before questioning you wITHOUT looking pathetic

"h-how did you know it was me??"

your hand only skims to the right of him, having to slightly lean against him to get what you need

it’s tae's record that jungkook had to fill up

you’ve just realized it a little while ago when jungkook was downstairs buying from the cafeteria, the distinct way of how he writes his A’s and curves his Y’s being embedded into your mind

:)

"because it's you."

[shihalyfie]

Some things to know about the upcoming 02-related movie

As someone who seems to be known for being a 02 metablogger now (and 02 lover in general), and who’s been closely following Kizuna’s development and is generally fond of the movie itself, I figured I’d probably need to address the elephant in the room that is the announcement of the upcoming (unnamed, as of this writing) 02-related movie. This is also especially because I’ve personally been on the record saying that I absolutely did not want a Kizuna sequel. And, well, on top of that, to be a bit blunt about it, a lot of us, especially 02 fans, have a lot of reason to be skeptical of Toei right now given some of the things they’ve done with this series in the past, and 02-related things in particular (trust me, the wound is still extremely fresh), so it says a lot about what it took for me to get even remotely positive about this prospect.

Well, here’s the good news: while I of course still think there’s good reason to be apprehensive, and while I wouldn’t say everyone should be getting their expectations up for it to be guaranteed fantastic (which is something I would say about anything, regardless of whether it even has to do with Digimon or not), I don’t think there’s too much to be panicked about with this movie. Again, it took a lot for the staff to gain my trust in this respect, so it’s not something I say lightly. But if you’re a 02 fan and you’re extremely apprehensive, here are my reasons for feeling this way, and, hopefully, they might make you feel a little better too.

The reason this movie exists to begin with

One of the most striking things about this movie’s reveal was that they’ve literally only just started production on this movie. This was to the point that, at DigiFes, where this was revealed, even the voice actors stated outright that they knew absolutely nothing more than what the audience knew from the trailer. Katayama (Daisuke) only knew anything in the sense that they had him record those few lines for it. So even though it’s been a whole year and a half since Kizuna released to the public, it had only just been decided to make a new movie like this. All of the statements between Kizuna and now stating that there was nothing particularly in the works at the time were completely accurate. Of course, there are obvious hints that they were setting up for this possibility (many, many people noticed the suspiciously favorable position the 02 group was in during Kizuna, and the press releases were carefully worded so that having a movie about “Daisuke and his friends” would allow any statement about Kizuna being “the last adventure of Taichi and his friends” to still be technically truthful), but for all intents and purposes it seems like there had been no actual commitment to making this 02 movie until now, and that they’d at least wanted to gauge the surrounding climate and fanbase reactions for what people were looking for before they decided to go ahead with this.

The obvious reasons as to why this movie exist involve the fact that Daisuke and co. are pretty much the only “out” you can have to continue the Adventure universe without constantly defaulting to Taichi’s group yet again, because at the very least it’d be something that you can’t deny hasn’t exactly had the best representation in recent years. Of course they’re trying to capitalize on this! I’m not going to pretend they aren’t! But producer Kinoshita left a very interesting comment about a particular goal they have with this movie:

This time, the core behind the movie is everyone from 02! Daisuke’s group has their own different kind of charm from Taichi’s, and we want to express that precisely because we’re in the times we’re in right now.

That comment alone has a lot to unpack. (For a frame of reference, Kizuna released in Japan in February 2020; development had already long finished by the time the pandemic first hit, and it was unfortunately one of the first victims of the initial lockdowns because of how bad the timing was.) Acknowledging directly that there’s something different about Daisuke’s group and their dynamic, which makes them especially suited for what we need in “the current times”...hmm, what could that be?

The implied answer is one that many 02 lovers will know very intimately: the 02 group’s particular specialty is in uplifting others and giving each other emotional support. While Adventure had traces of these themes, 02 was the one that went really hard on the themes of dealing with grief and loss, the existential crisis of what to do with oneself in a world placing heavy pressures on you, and how to move on from hardships with the help of others. The fact that the 02 group specializes in this more than anything else is probably one of the most distinguishing factors between them and their seniors, so there’s a very heavy implication here that they understand what distinguishes 02 from Adventure, and what it uniquely would bring to the table in this kind of movie. So this isn’t just “we’re relying on the 02 kids because they’re part of the same universe”; there’s some degree of substantial understanding of what makes 02 as a series unique, and a desire to use this to its fullest extent.

Still don’t believe me? Well, how about this...

This staff really likes 02 a lot

Seki Hiromi, the original producer of Adventure and 02, was involved as a supervisor on Kizuna’s development. Seki was personally involved in the creation of these kids and 02 itself -- she’s the one who noticed the story of the nine-year-old boy skipping grades into Columbia University, the one that formed the basis of 02 itself and eventually came back for Kizuna -- and even personally vetted Kizuna’s script to make sure everyone was in character, gave her thoughts on what the kids would be like in 2010, and was (repeatedly) commented as seeming to love the kids like her own children. As of this writing, it hasn’t been confirmed whether she’s involved on the new movie, but even if she’s not, this means that the staff on Kizuna that is returning all listened closely to those discussions about what the characters are like, straight from the mouth of one of their own creators. The new character song releases had a brief mention in Lounsbery Arthur’s interview that there were apparently extensive discussions with the staff on what the characters should be like at this time, so while Seki’s involvement with that is unknown, at the very least, a lot of conscientious thought seems to be put in at all times into maintaining these characters’ integrity.

Of course, just having an original creator alone on it doesn’t necessarily do it by itself, so here’s another interesting thing: Taguchi Tomohisa, director of both Kizuna and this movie, is also very fond of 02.

I suspect we’ll be hearing more from him as this new movie goes further into development, but Taguchi himself implied that 02 was actually the one he happened to connect with in particular, and when you really think about it, given the circumstances surrounding Kizuna, it’s not actually surprising that a movie trying to be conscientiously aware of 02′s position in the narrative would have someone with a particular fondness for it on its staff. (Reason being: a lot of Adventure fans don’t care much for 02, but you’ll almost never meet a 02 fan who doesn’t also adore Adventure.) The really fun part about this, however, is that Taguchi has repeatedly stated that 02′s first movie, Hurricane Touchdown, is his favorite Digimon movie -- in a climate where everyone else was talking about Adventure. The expected answer for the majority of Adventure fans in terms of “favorite Digimon movie” is almost always Our War Game! by knockout, but no, for Taguchi, it’s Hurricane Touchdown, and not only has he said this, he won’t shut up about it. He’s been saying this since 2019. Even Seki noticed. A whole article got made about this. He brings it up whenever he has a chance to. To top it all off, when a Kizuna event asked everyone present about their favorite characters, and everyone gave Adventure-related answers, Taguchi’s response was instead Terriermon and Daisuke. And I mean, look at Kizuna itself -- its entire plot revolves around having to move on from unhealthy nostalgia, represented by kidnapping people and turning them younger and an antagonist swallowed by their own negative emotions, which, well, is literally the plot of Hurricane Touchdown. (Yeah, that Wallace cameo is very, very likely to be sheer self-indulgence.) And considering that Taguchi said his favorite human character was Daisuke, not Wallace, it means that he understands what Hurricane Touchdown brought out of Daisuke, what his interactions with Wallace meant for both characters, and how Daisuke’s best strengths lie in his ability to support and uplift others.

And, finally, we have Yamatoya, who was responsible for penning both Kizuna’s script (and, thus, being privy to Seki’s corrections) and the bonus drama CD that came with it, on the script, and he personally said that he enjoyed writing for the 02 group because he felt they were important to lightening up the mood of the heavy story Kizuna was becoming. In fact, every comment from this staff about what the 02 group brings to the table in particular has showed a good understanding of what their appeal is -- that they have to be “fun”, that they were “healing in a heavy story”, and Taguchi himself said that he got the impression that the 02 group had more straightforward paths to their epilogue careers (which is interesting, considering that I’ve also personally pointed out that the 02 group seemed to have careers with significantly lower bars than their seniors’ due to their difference in priorities). All of these things are observations you make when you know this group and the importance of the story they came from.

Extend it even further to the rest of the staff members and you’ll find there are a lot of 02 fans on there, including the animation staff, who made some very neat observations about 02 and its finale. Miyahara Takuya is a particularly amusing case, because he seems to love Imperialdramon so much that in the thanks booklet for the deluxe edition for the Blu-ray, he drew a picture of Daisuke and Ken with Imperialdramon Dragon Mode because he didn’t get to be in the movie. (As in, he actually said, point-blank in the caption, that he loves Imperialdramon and wanted to draw him because he wasn’t in the movie.)

Of course, even if you’re trying your best, things may not always work out, so I’m not saying having love for the characters will necessarily guarantee that the product turns out for the best. However, considering that historically a lot of our fears come from the idea of them milking the name value of the characters without really caring about their integrity or understanding what the series was about (especially since a lot of people in the fanbase itself don’t tend to read 02′s nuances very well), I think, at the very least, we don’t need to worry about the staff for this movie not being conscientious, nor the idea that they’re making this movie without understanding or caring about 02.

Furthermore, one thing I appreciate is that they’re actually leading the advertisement with a premise that is distinct from Kizuna’s. Of course, it covers a similar topic of “partnerships”, and it’s very possible it’ll cover the issue of the solution to Kizuna’s problem (especially since the answer was already hinted to have a heavy relationship with 02), but nevertheless, it’s an actual premise that’s not just “Kizuna’s story, but more of it”. It’s an understanding that something 02-related should be allowed to stand on its own rather than just tacking it onto an Adventure-related thing. Beyond that, while I think it’s generally expected that a side story like this should have an original character, I think it’s actually very good this time in particular that there’s a new element/character for the 02 group to interact with; again, as with Hurricane Touchdown and Daisuke, these kids often have the best brought out of them when they’re supporting others, and honestly, because the kids suffered so much in their own narrative, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of seeing them having to go through too much more trauma themselves (it’s a big reason I don’t like the idea of a 02 reboot). So while I’m sure a lot of 02 fans feel a bit antsy that the actual group itself wasn’t advertised first, I actually consider it a positive sign that they have an understanding of what context this group performs best in, and, moreover, well...the last time they unveiled something that was so focused on advertising the return of old characters that it forgot to actually be straightforward about the premise, I don’t think that ended well. So to speak.

In general, the track record is good

It’s easy to just smile and nod at the portrayal of the 02 quartet in Kizuna, because in general everything from them is in-character, but I just want to point out how significant it is that they were portrayed so conscientiously when it is really easy to mess them up. (As I like pointing out very often: even official has not historically been very careful with Daisuke’s character.) There are so many easy pitfalls you could have fallen into and pigeonholed the kids into, but Kizuna absolutely demonstrated the quartet at their best, showing off all the nuances of their character and bringing up all the parts that were most important, especially Daisuke’s best quality being “positivity and cheerfulness” and not all of the other things about him running in circles or having a crush on Hikari-chan. This even goes down to the casting; Katayama Fukujuurou sounds terrifyingly like Kiuchi Reiko in terms of all the little nuances and pitch shifts she had in her performance, and the cast themselves spoke of all the nuances present in their characters as they were studying for their roles. These are things that even fans of the series tend to miss, but the voice actors for the quartet nailed their roles so well that it’s very easy to tell that the direction understood exactly what they were looking for and needed, and casted accordingly. Even those who didn’t care for the movie much had a very hard time disputing the voice casting for the quartet (and this is saying a lot given how much voice actor changes are often a really sore point among Japanese fans).

But while the 02 group had a limited amount of screentime in Kizuna, the staff also had a lot of opportunities to prove themselves with the drama CD and the new character song CDs, and every single aspect of these reflects something that was represented in 02 itself -- again, things that often go over the heads of people who aren’t paying as close attention. The drama CD captures a lot of the essence of the dynamics between the group in only short lines, and all of the statements about the characters in the character song interviews are accurate (and remember: Arthur said directly that there were discussions with the staff about keeping them true to character). On top of that, not only do the lyrics in said songs directly mirror each character’s development from the time of the original Best Partner series, there are also a lot of things in said songs that demonstrate a nuanced understanding of each person’s character and what they got out of the events of 02. Someone with only a surface-level understanding of Ken or Iori’s character might think that Ken should only have a soft song, or that Iori shouldn’t want to do anything ridiculous, but the series goes ahead and gives Ken one of the most passionately emotional rock songs in the batch and Iori outright rap with Armadimon, which are both fitting decisions in light of Ken actually being one of the more emotionally assertive people in this group, and Iori only being stoic because he’s strict with himself and being willing to let loose in certain circumstances (especially after the events of 02).

As of this writing, I don’t know if the new movie is going to be featuring the entire group in a major role, and I’m not sure if I even want it to; as much as I do strongly feel like the group should always work together at all times, one minor personal complaint I had about Kizuna was that it tries to do too much in too little time, and I’m personally fine with this new movie being more Daisuke-centric or something if it means it can just get a nice story on the table (after all, if I wanted something that more evenly represents the entire 02 group, I’d just go back and rewatch a very nice anime series called Digimon Adventure 02). There’s also the very thorny question of what to do about Tokumitsu Yuka, since I don’t personally really like the idea of still dragging her out of retirement like this (but I also wouldn’t want them to awkwardly write around her just for this, and I’m wondering if Sonozaki voicing Tailmon in the reboot would let people accept her as a replacement without much fighting).

Nevertheless, I think Kizuna’s staff has proven more than well enough that they understand the essence of 02 and its characters, so, again, regardless of how it turns out, I at least expect that this can be made with some degree of conscientiousness, and at this point, that’s all I can ask for. I don’t think it’s fair to expect or want this movie to be the second coming of 02, because, again, if we wanted that, I think it’d be better for us to all go back and watch that lovely little 50-episode anime called Digimon Adventure 02. But in terms of being something that can add a little nice thing to the mix, I think, so far, this movie at least has positive signs of turning out that way -- and, remember, think about what I just said about initially being very against this idea; as a diehard 02 fan who has a lot of very picky feelings about how to best represent it, it took a lot for the staff to earn my trust in this sense.

[soliverse]

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (sfw version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: fluff, humor, (optional smut below)

warnings: a bunch of swearing, mean insults and a bit of gaslighting

word count: 2972

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

tags:

@byutafy for the short notice beta reading. love you!

networks:

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

prompt:

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Yangyang saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Hendery squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

It was already two in the afternoon but Winwin still stayed lying in bed, clutching his blanket close to his body in an attempt to prevent the chill of the afternoon breeze from coming in contact with his bare skin.

The plan was to stay in bed until all remnants of the vodka and last night's shenanigans have washed away. Or until he dies from starvation. But his roommates have other things in mind.

"WINWIN HYUNG!"

He was jolted awake by the loud noise coming from his bedroom window. Half-awake, he peeked through the sheets to see what the commotion was about.

The first thing he saw was Lucas holding his now broken doorknob in one hand, happily waving it around like a lightstick. Hendery was happily mumbling some bullshit that he didn't care enough to comprehend. Xiaojun was holding a tube-like contraption that he assumed was confetti, Ten and Yangyang were on the side, dancing like the game show girls while holding up each side of a handmade banner stating "Congrats on getting laid!" badly written with a green crayon. Meanwhile, Kun at the end of the line, leaning back at the door frame with his arms crossed while watching all of the chaos unfold right before him.

"Fuck off..."

Winwin grunted and grabbed the pillow under his head, throwing it with full force so that it ended up hitting Xiaojun on his chest.

They seem to have taken the hint because they all scrambled outside, laughing their asses off as they try to get away and avoid getting their asses kicked by a martial artist.

Meanwhile, Winwin buried his face under the thick sheets, trying his best to block the light coming from outside from reaching his eyes, heightening his already throbbing headache. He was planning to stay in bed no matter how loud his stomach grumbled, but his resolve is weaker than he expected. Begrudgingly, he dragged his tired ass out of bed to take a cold shower, hoping that will shake his hangover out.

///

“Holy shit.”

This wasn’t the usual statement that he says to himself whenever he would look at himself in the morning. However, as soon as he lifted his head in the mirror to wash his face, he might as well be an extra for a horror movie.

All over his upper body, especially the neck and chest area, was filled with red smudges. He also found tiny hints of it at the corners of his lips. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was lipstick.

Whoever he made out with (or had sex with) last night must’ve gone wild and tried to mark every part of him that she could place her lips on.

Winwin felt his heart sink. He couldn’t, for the life of him, remember who he was last night. Just like his body, the memories of her red lips lingered on his mind. But that’s about it.

It took him a long time to squint his eyes and try to recall the moments leading up to him getting on the bed with someone, but it only made his headache worse. Defeated, he chose to let everything go and proceeded to hop in the shower just like he initially intended.

He opened the shower, letting it get to his desired temperature before he stepped in and let the water flow from his hair to the rest of his body. He didn’t move, instead of leaning one of his hands on the wall for support as he closed his eyes and tried to soothe himself with the water pressure from the showerhead. He took a deep breath, letting the air come out slowly of his lips, eyes still heavily shut.

That’s when the memories kicked in.

He finally remembered being in that same position, in a familiar corner of their dorm, as he leaned over to kiss the girl with the red lips. He also remembered the heat, the intensity of the kiss as his subconscious made him remember that he was gasping for air afterward. And so, he resorted to kissing her jaws instead. She willingly returned the favor, which is probably where he’d gotten the smudges that he found that morning, and how her red lips formed a proud smile as she kept on going, painting his fair skin with her rouge.

He sucked in another lungful of air before opening his eyes and hopping back into reality. He’s still clueless as to how the girl looked like, but he was determined to find out who’s the owner of those red luscious lips, and he would love it all over him again.

///

Sicheng came out of his room already dressed up, water still dripping from his hair to the towel that he placed on his neck. He made his way to the kitchen and he found the rest of his friends sitting around the table, smiling like idiots.

“What?”

He asked, already annoyed about how they’ve been acting all day, or at least, for the past two hours.

“Hendery saw you enter your room last night. With a girl,” says Kun.

“Uhh, duh?” Ten replied, raising an eyebrow at the older as he grabbed the butter knife and spread peanut butter over a piece of bread.

“How sure is everyone that it was a girl?” Yangyang squinted his eyes, trying to look intimidating as he interrogated his friend for further details about last night.

“Why is everyone so concerned if I fucked a girl or not? Or if I fucked someone at all?” Winwin replied in annoyance, coming out almost whiney, hoping that they would cut the questions out and leave him and his breakfast alone.

“You don’t know either, do you?” Xiaojun tried not to laugh as he stuffed a sunny-side-up egg in his mouth, failing at the last minute to the point that he almost spat some of it out.

Winwin sighed. He knows they will plague him with questions until next week and will do anything to squeeze it out of him at the best of their abilities. Him getting laid feels like some event to be celebrated because out of all the guys, he was the least interested in women. Not that he doesn’t like them, it’s that he just refused to do it unless he’s genuinely interested in the girl.

Or guy.

Was it a guy?

Winwin resorted to stuffing his mouth with as much food as he can because it would give him an excuse to not speak further and answer their questions. For how long he can keep it up is a question that he’ll have to face once his plate full of food is decimated.

///

By the time you get into your brother’s dorm, the whole place was so trashed that you even hesitated to proceed inside. However, your mother asked you that morning to come over to your brother’s dorm as he refuses to reply to her texts and respond to her calls that morning.

“Ssup, nerd.”

You always cringe whenever Hendery calls you that nickname. Not that it affects you or anything. It was just so… old-school. You’re a big fan of insults and you would certainly be happier if the nickname was a bit more creative.

“Ssup, failure.” You replied, sitting right beside him as you grabbed a plate and helped yourself with the food served at the table, courtesy of Kun. He’s the only one that’s competent enough to fry eggs that beautifully.

“Mom’s been calling non-stop since last night. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t with you. I couldn’t come up with an excuse so I just told her you slept early because of morning classes.”

Hendery snickered.

You and he have very different lifestyles. He was supposed to be two years ahead of you in college, but he’s always caught up in partying and having fun that he missed some subjects that he had to retake that year. One more fuck up and you’ll be joining him in classes next year. And as your parents’ only hope, you feel compelled to stay away from all the fun stuff until you graduate. That is also the reason why Hendery felt it was his moral obligation to shoo you away from last night’s party, despite sharing the same room as him.

At least that's what he told you. You have a reason to believe that he shooed you away last night just so he can do whatever he wanted without you around to snitch on him.

“Everything’s fine, kid. I already told her the same thing last night. You and I share the same brain.”

“Yes, except one of us has his brain fried by substance abuse and the other has a perfectly functioning human brain capable of making future science discoveries.”

Your eyes then diverted to the guy sitting right across you. He looked sickly and pale, his organs probably screaming inside asking to die.

“What’s up with him?” You asked your brother.

“He had done the deed with a guy last night.” Winwin, with an expressionless face, was quick to throw a flying spoon in Hendery’s direction. The milk splattered everywhere, but Hendery was able to evade it, laughing maniacally as he wiped the milk off of his arms.

“Hey, you’re good with this investigation stuff, right? Maybe you can help prince charming over here find his Cinderella?”

///

"Tell me what you can remember."

Winwin thought you looked ridiculous when you grabbed a pen and a notepad, looking like some low-budget investigator in the movie. He wasn't in the mood to play along, but he might as well humor you and find out what happened last night.

"This may not help at all, but I can't remember jack shit except for one thing," He paused. You raised both eyebrows expectantly, signaling him to answer faster. "Red lips. That's the one thing I haven't forgotten about."

You scribbled the word, red lips in your notepad.

You scribbled a few more words and nodded as if you understood its implication.

"Well, that doesn't narrow down the suspects at all."

You placed your notepad in your pocket and stood up from your seat.

"We shall now go and investigate the crime scene."

///

You decided that the crime scene was Winwin's bedroom since this is where he found himself last.

Winwin saw that you're very detail-oriented, looking at every nook at cranny to see traces of the mystery person around and aid in the investigation.

His room was cleaner than you'd expected, so finding things that stick out or are out of place will be a clear sign of the perpetrator.

You searched high and low, from the shelves to the bed, but you're only able to find two things that might help his case.

As soon as you lifted one of his pillowcases, you saw traces of red smeared across its white surface. Some of it even transferred in the bedsheets.

"Your story checks out. It is red lipstick." You lifted the pillow and walked towards Winwin, who's just sitting at one of his bean bags and mostly just observing you doing your stuff.

You pointed out the smudges to him and he nodded. You then proceeded to grab one of your magnifiers from your backpack and looked at the stains for closer inspection.

"Seeing its transferability, I can say that the lipstick in question has a satin finish. The shade, as far as I can see, is somewhere in between orange and bright red." You grabbed your notepad once again and listed down your observations.

"Know anyone who wears that often?" He proceeded to shake his head.

"Alright then. Now, we ask the witnesses."

You were about to leave the room when Winwin called you out to call your attention.

"Hmm?"

"I think there's something under the bed."

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to walk towards his bed, kneeling as he tried to reach for something below.

You were surprised to see what he found, though. In between his fingers is a piece of thin, lace material, glowing red just like the lipstick shade. It was someone's underwear.

"Yeah… I think we should keep that from the witnesses."

///

"Where were you at the time of the incident?"

As it turns out, the rest of the boys are no more helpful than Winwin. You just finished interviewing Kun, Ten, Yangyang, Xiaojun, and Lucas. The boys themselves barely remember what they did last night, let alone whatever their friend was doing. Meanwhile, the victim (aka Dong Sicheng) sat there right alongside you while you asked the questions. You asked them if they were helpful at all, but alas, nothing resonates to him.

"Hey, aren't you going to ask me about last night?"

Hendery popped out in the makeshift interrogation room (aka the living room) and sat down right beside you, peeking in at your notes.

"Nope. I only interview reliable sources. You can barely remember your stuff sober." You stuffed your notepad back again at your backpack, hugging it close to your body to keep it from your brother.

"I saw Winwin with someone though. He was making out with someone right just a few meters away from his bedroom."

"Go on…"

"I didn't see her well though. She was pinned across the wall and Sicheng hyung's body was blocking the view."

You sighed.

"See. It was pretty useless information."

He was about to say something else, but you cut him off.

"I'll keep them in mind, thank you very much."

///

You’ve finally sat down back again in the kitchen to give yourself a moment of peace to piece the things you found together. Winwin is just right beside you, just quietly observing just as usual.

Everything is laid out across the kitchen table, your notepad, the pillowcase, the underwear (which is kept in a ziplock bag for hygienic purposes).

“You still don’t remember anything?”

“I do remember seeing those before, but nothing is still coming out. I still can’t remember who she is.”

You can tell that Sicheng was getting a bit frustrated. He was trying his best to remember as he once again shut his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, seeing if there is anything that he is missing.

As he did this, Hendery popped in again in the kitchen, this time holding a full laundry basket.

“I would just like to let you know that I am being a good brother and roommate by doing your laundry.”

“Yes, yes. Thank you Hendery. You did well." You smiled at your brother to acknowledge him, but you mostly did it just to shoo him away from the investigation room. He seems to have gotten the idea and left as soon as he showed the basket to you for one last time.

He shut the door and you were met with a deafening silence once again. This time though, you felt weird energy coming from the guy right in front of you. He stared at you for a long time, specifically your lips, and then he started to break down right in front of you.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

You asked him what the problem was, but all that came out of his mouth are grunts and a string of curses.

"You alright?"

He was now going between laughing and frustration, rubbing his hands on his face as he lets out all emotions.

"It was you all along. You're red lips girl."

You smiled as you looked at your phone to check the time.

"Five hours. I'm impressed. If that was my brother, it would've taken him a week or two."

"Why didn't you just tell me? I feel stupid."

"And take the fun out of it? Nope."

You then watch him react, different kinds of emotions flooding in at the same time. You laughed as you stood from your seat and patted his back.

"What gave it away?"

He stopped reacting for a while, composing himself as he relayed his deductions to you.

"I had my suspicions when you opened your bag to get the magnifying glass. I saw a red lipstick tube scattered across but I dismissed it since any girl would have lipstick on her bag. I was also confused when you refused to acknowledge the underwear. I saw it from my point of view, but it's like you purposely didn't look under the bed just so you won't find it. You know it was there, didn't you?"

You finally grabbed a seat right beside him, interested to hear what he has to say next.

"And then there's Hendery's story. You didn't ask him to mess with him. It's because he did see us. I remember now, it's what got us in this mess in the first place…"

You nodded to acknowledge him. You've always known that he's a bit smarter than the other guys, but he was very observant as well. That's why he was quiet all the time.

"Lastly, when Hendery came in with your laundry, there was something sticking out," He picked up the ziplock and held it across your face. "The bra that came with this, it was sandwiched along with your other clothing, but the bright color stuck out to me."

"Mhm… " You nodded in approval. You didn't even notice that last one, but he was able to pick that as well.

"And then I stared at your lips for a while. That's when it hit me. It was the same lips that I claimed last night. The red lips that drove me crazy…"

You gave him a small round of applause as he finished his spiel.

"Honestly, you were on point on everything. I'm just sad that you can't remember anything."

His moment of clarity was shut down and he smiled apologetically.

"Want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded profusely.

(link to the optional smut right here)

[whumpersdump]

Project Rebirth - CH7: Food, and a Well-Kept Secret Truth

Whumper has a name! Meet Marcus, to his subjects known as The Parent.

[ Previous ] -- [ Masterlist ]

TW: mild force feeding / infantilization. Like, Marcus will literally be treating Orian like an infant / collar mention / restraints / mild manhandling / implied minor pet whump (heavily implied, not shown at all. Minor as in age) / pet whump / dehuminazation / lab whump (minor tbh) / implied past torture / mass indoctrination of both ‘pets’ and people (mentioned) / unfair legal system

Marcus is enjoying Orian’s new personality (as far as they have one tbh), while also handling the preparations for the new stream of subjects that the government and a few private parties have supplied. This bit contains mostly some worldbuilding, set-up for some more story on Marcus’s side, and Toby’s backstory!

Marcus looked down on Orian from the side of their bed. They slept in the white training overall they’d gotten after the Rebirth, under the Project’s Rebirth certificate that hung on the wall. They twitched every now and then. Murmured, even though they weren’t supposed to be able to for months.

One of the technicians explained it was a malfunction they wouldn’t be able to fix. Supposedly it occurred just a week or two after they started the container procedure, but they couldn’t notice it until Orian woke up. He’d been tempted to strap them down and drug them until they couldn’t lift a finger anymore when they kept screaming for hours on end, but a little side effect of that malfunction meant they put so much pressure on their brain they needed almost as much sleep as an actual infant.

Almost innocent, which they’d soon be for real.

Even then it was the screaming that bothered him. They’d been in the container for nine months, there was nothing left of their muscles.

Their nursery, as the staff still called it, was a light green. Stark white floors, a rocking chair in the corner, though it would never be used. Marcus doubted he’d need it. Though Orian was small, it wouldn’t be a challenge. Orian’s bed was outfitted with barricades on the sides to keep them from rolling out. It could be rocked from side to side as well. He’d hung a light above it, which he let flicker when he needed their attention away from the window they gazed at during the day.

Marcus smiled as the twitches died out, and Orian let out a small puff in their sleep. Despite it being purple in color, now more than ever Orian’s collar marked them as a blank slate. And an opportunity. Orian was no more than a few weeks old by the Project’s calendar—which started at the Rebirth—but the ministry had been so pleased so far, they offered Marcus a deal. Orian. If he tamed them, and they stayed that way for a month in one of the ministry’s own pre-placement facilities, he got to keep them.

It was a small bonus compared to the dozen pets being evaluated and prepared as he sat there, but one he appreciated nonetheless. Toby fulfilled his role the best a pet like him could, but he needed someone who was exactly as he built them to be. Pets might learn best from their trainers, but the lessons only stuck with a good example. Toby was obedient, sure, but his personality was still his own. It got in the way.

If Toby were a fit applicant for the Project he would have done it, but he knew too much about how it worked. The implant could take care of it, but it would have to be permanent, which would mean Toby’s skills went away with it.

Toby was one of the rare pets these days to be raised as a person. Of course Marcus knew how the world really worked, pets were a matter of personality. Or chance, if they just happened to be left on the ministry’s doorstep. Pets these days were either obtained young, or born with the ministry. Toby was in his early twenties when he got into the wrong theoretical area at his university. Got too close to the ministry’s centuries old manufactured truth.

They did a decent job on him. He’d only been a pet for half a decade, but if you asked him he didn’t know any better. Too scared for defiance at the time of capture, that was the culprit. To aware of what he’d be turned into. When Marcus first read his file, when his previous owner submitted him to test the Project, he thought it was a conscious obedience at first.

The way most pets obeyed. Do what they say, so you don’t get hurt. It works well enough, but the owner plays too big a role. It only takes one to be too lenient, and one pet and all they’re in contact with can get ideas they shouldn’t have. Toby on the other hand, was very aware of his place in society. Acted accordingly, even when he didn’t have to.

Marcus played an experiment on him, after his owner died. He was first in line to take him in, since he’d been in his care for months. He had a few actors pull him from the kennel as if they were setting him free. Payed them thousands to try and break his training the way the few opposing groups still tried to do. He ran off and was found crying at the door of the last training facility he’d been in, begging to be fixed.

That’s what got him the first blue. The only reason the rest was still green was because sometimes he was a little too aware that he was unusually well-behaved for a pet. He tried to use it to his advantage with other pets every now and then. He would place himself above them, as if his collar was a status symbol pertaining to him, and not the trainers and owners that raised him to be the pet he was.

A soft rumble came from Orian’s stomach as they opened their eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Marcus asked. He’d gotten criticism on his supposed gentleness, but it only looked like that from the outside. The back of Orian’s mind was still aware they weren’t an infant, alongside the fact that they were as powerless as one.

He took out a bottle that contained a water-thin smoothie with enough vitamins and calories and the whatnot to suffice for a whole meal. Was a liter-sized baby bottle a bit over the top? Maybe, but training pets wasn’t half as fun without a little humiliation. Besides, Orian couldn’t see it anyway, and they needed to be fed somehow. They always felt it though. They’d stay still, until they felt it against their lips and pulled away with the memory.

That was implant not doing it’s job. They weren’t supposed to refuse it. They always got hungry enough eventually though. Sure, Marcus would have to stop letting them refuse it in the first place, but if the implant was malfunctioning that much, he had to ease them out of the bits of control they thought they had left. It had been weeks, so it seemed today would be eventually.

“Come on now, you don’t want to be hungry for the rest of the day, do you?” He brought the bottle to their face after they turned away. Orian kept avoiding. Rocking their head from side to side, it was a pathetic sight really—if he didn’t include the fact that it also looked a little cute—but to Orian it was all they could do. Enough was enough, though.

He waved his free hand, blocking the light from the window. It tricked them, allowing Marcus to force the bottle between their lips with the other before they noticed. He pressed down a little, so they couldn’t push it out. Orian pouted, but Marcus didn’t budge. They drank it up almost half way, before lulling back to sleep.

Marcus stroked their hair. “See, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

As much as he liked watching the most defiant pet he knew sleep like a rose without the help of any sedatives at all, he had other business to attend to. He had a deal with the ministry’s department of re-training and a few private investors to put just over a dozen pets through the program, but the ministry had also given him another interesting offer.

Prevention.

Six of them. All pets that were close to coming of placement-age, or just had. Late teens, most of them. One was twenty. All of them showed signs similar to Orian’s before they peaked, even if they didn’t know it themselves.

The youngest of them could almost be measured up with Toby, but their head-trainer was concerned their obedience was too focused on consequence. They were a little too eager to please, and too disappointed if it didn’t pay off. A few years ago Marcus would have told them to place them at a residence with a… reputation, but the government had faced opposition in the past years. Placement age cut it out. No one was too happy about it, but escapes went down. Probably because pets got more time to be weakened out or trained far enough.

Except for these six, apparently. They’d been put away in the daycare as his staff interviewed the headmaster of the institute they all came from. Marcus had trained close to a dozen trainers to take on some their load. He could only be in so many places at a time. One of those six though, was a challenge he’d like to take on.

Subject Seventeen. Previously named only Theo, though at the ministry’s training facility they were planning to dub him Tyler. Eighteen years old, short file. They’d only belonged to the ministry for a week, after all.

The risk of taking in pet-smugglers to be pets themselves was a risk, but Theo was young. He was the driver at a plan to smuggle nearly two dozen escaped pets over the border. The pets got out, but the truck was easy to trace, since the kid was stupid enough to take it back. Someone high up in the government somewhere took a liking to him when they put him to trial. His luck, because he wouldn’t last a week in prison. He broke his own fingers trying to punch the Catchers that were after the pets he stole.

All it took were some government-sanctioned ‘brain scans’ and ‘blood-work’, and there it was. Misread at birth. Of course the trial wasn’t televised, but Marcus would have loved to see the look in his eyes when the judge decided he’d be shown mercy since he couldn’t know better.

Marcus strutted past the pens. Some were guest’s pets, some prospects, a few had already been accepted for evaluation. To keep his clean reputation running they got an hour in the fresh air for each six they spent there, so most of the pens were empty anyway. Seventeen was in the far back, in one of the more secure pens.

Muzzled, wearing a Rebirth-issue straitjacket and pants that strapped his legs together. A harness around his torso forced him to painlessly stay on his knees. Pain was the one thing Marcus wasn’t the greatest fan of. It thought pets to avoid punishment, rather than avoiding breaking the rules.

Seventeen leaned back with a frown when Marcus opened the pen’s door. “Oh come on now,” Marcus quieted his tone, knowing full well that Seventeen was only starting to show cracks, not breaks. He knew what he was, even if not for long. “You’ve been at this for a week and you’re this jumpy already?”

He eyed the hand trucks they used to move the subjects, but Seventeen couldn’t be sedated before evaluation, and he showed a bit too much fight for Marcus to manhandle him onto it. They had solutions for that, though. The harness that Seventeen wore was attached to a thin rail that ran through the daycare into the evaluation wing. Marcus tested the jacket to make sure Seventeen was secured, then pulled him out.

Seventeen was on the tall side, he had no problem standing. He also had no problem trying to kick him. His legs were bound together, which meant every time he tried he ended up dangling from the ceiling.

Marcus let him have at it until he was out of breath. “Are you done? We’re only going to talk.” Seventeen frowned, but didn’t kick again. At least he knew which battles he could and couldn’t win. It made him just a little bit more cooperative than he likely meant to be. “I doubt you’ve had much training, but whatever you’ve heard, this’ll be much less painful than the ministry’s methods.”

A muffled curse almost broke through the muzzle.

Marcus took the risk of standing closer. Seventeen didn’t take his chance. Good. The same rail that ran along the ceiling, also ran along the middle of the floor. Marcus leaned down and held still Seventeen’s feet as he wrapped a white bag around them, that connected to the rail. “Now let’s go, shall we?”

Pushing him forward at his back, Marcus and Seventeen entered the padded evaluation room. A chair stood in the middle, the straps dangling off.

“Now there’s options,” Marcus said. “I take you off this hook and you sit down without giving me any trouble, or you make the mistake of trying to best me, and six men will be in here to put you in an infinitely more uncomfortable position. Anything’s fine by me, as long you can speak, of course.”

That last part got his attention. Marcus untied the harness and led the subject to the chair, where he strapped down his head, and secured his limbs as far as needed.

“Now. Let’s start simple. What did your childhood bedroom look like?”

Marcus left the room with smile plastered on his face when he was done. The kid had no idea what he was doing. Answered every question in perfect honesty, so jumbled with confusion. He’d never worn a collar other than the purple one around his neck, but even without Marcus he could get on a orange or maybe even yellow on his confusion alone.

He considered running evaluation for the other five newbies as well, but his buzzer went off. Sound alarm, Orian’s room. They were screaming again, of course. He’d have to find the triggers for it. The Rebirth was simple, the transition was as smooth as it could be, but still not pleasant. After that, they knew his voice. It made it easier for them to reach the concepts of defiance and resistance. This time though, they’d been alone for an hour.

Marcus softly opened the door to their room and, sat down next to the bed. Orian’s screams had died down into sobs while he was on his way there. “Shush now,” Marcus said. “There’s no need for all this, what’s wrong?” Of course Orian wouldn’t be able to answer, but that was half the fun. The other half came when he ruffled their hair.

Orian nearly choked on a last sob, but then quieted down. Their face softened as Marcus kept running his hands over the pet’s head. “Lonely, huh?” Marcus smiled. “I guess this…” he looked around for the most effective term to use for the malfunction. Orian would be living with it for the rest of their life. “…Defect, is having some useful side effects after all.” They remembered their life before, or at least how it felt. Which meant they also remembered the severe lack in affection, just not enough to know that they didn’t use to mind.

“Don’t worry.” Marcus softly rocked the bed with his free hand. “I’ll teach you to manage them as you grow up again. I’m The Parent. That’s what I do, after all.”

Orian didn’t go back to sleep. Not surprising, given they’d had more of it than usual. Their first evaluation was in a few months, when they’d gotten enough of their function back to perform a few simple tasks and commands. Of course the implant would cause some trouble in the beginning. It might be hard for them to understand the commands. Still, a double red, or even a partial orange had to be doable. A partial yellow qualified them for placement, which meant with a partial yellow, they’d be his.

“You’re a very versatile pet, Orian. I’m sure you’ll achieve great things, for a pet.”

Tagging the Rebirth crew: @suspicious-whumping-egg @distinctlywhumpthing ​ @panic-and-chaos​ @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @whump-it @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[whump-a-la-mode]

A Rather Odd Heist AKA The Trophy Room

Hi! I don’t know what this is and I have (at the time of writing) work in four hours! I had this idea in a daydream and just had to get it down in writing.

I apologize if the formatting is weird. I usually write in the tumblr text editor but this was written in docs.

CW//Threats, talk of injury, talk of disease, poison, death threats, descriptions of pain, restraints, medical emergencies, collars, chains, dehumanization, being kept as a trophy

    The wound felt like disease.

    It was a long slash, started at the front of Hero’s chest, just below the clavicle, and extending to the middle of their shoulder blade. The pain was white hot, tearing through skin and into sensitive flesh below, but more than that, even as the wound was carved, the feeling of infection, of poison, seeping in was overwhelming. 

    They lost the balance from the pain alone, slamming into the worn tile floor of the subway platform with a crack from their cheekbone. 

    Their assailant, on the other hand, landed with far more grace, on their feet. Hibou’s claws, wicked constructions of metal that had clearly recently been to the whetting stone, curled inwards towards their palm. Not far, though. The twelve inch long weapons constricted their movement, not that they minded. The aluminum feathers attached to their rust-painted goggles twitched with amusement.

    “I really thought they’d sent someone with a little more skill in… standing.” They smirked, though it stretched their mouth far too wide, enough to make Hero uncomfortable. “Do they not teach you that at HQ?”

    Hero grumbled out a half-hearted reply that even they were unable to make out. After a moment of catching their breath, they scrambled to their feet; every movement of their shoulder sending a new wave of agony through the marred flesh. 

    They met Hibou’s gaze (or, at least, the black lenses of their goggles), holding it for a long moment. The world around them took a shuddering breath as a weak gust of wind managed to find its way into the abandoned subway tunnel. 

    Through Hero’s mind ran half a dozen half-baked plans. Diversions and threats they could carry out, attacks they could make. None would work, certainly, but it occupied their panic-addled mind until the footsteps sounded behind them.

    They dared not spin around and let Hibou out of their sight, but they were acutely aware of the two pairs of feet, one on either side, approaching to surround them.

    “This one was spying.” Hibou glanced to one of the unseen figures, the one on Hero’s right. “And you know what they thought would be a good hiding spot? You wanna know?”

    “Course we wanna know.” The voice had a snakelike quality to it, hissed out between fangs.

    “The catwalk! The broken down catwalk. You always said that if anyone ever walked up there it’d fall, and guess what! You were right.”

    A barrier of cackling penned Hero in on all sides for a moment. The slash on their shoulder didn’t seem to be bleeding, but the pinpricks of disease refused to stop.

    “So, that begs the question.” Hibou continued. “What are we going to do with them?”

    Hero felt as though a wire was tightened around their neck. In a motion that surprised even themself, they leapt onto the tracks, running along the rusty metal for a moment before attempting to struggle their way out of the other side.

    The cold, scaly hand gripped them before they had any chance to do so. With a horrifying strength, and a bold show of it, the hand threw them up, slamming them onto their back. A clawed hand pressed to their chest, foot-long blades threatening to prick into their skin. Those rusty goggles stared down at them in a way that seemed almost playful.

    It was supposed to be a simple mission, they couldn’t help but recall as they lay there, well-sharpened blades likely only a few inches of flesh away from their rapidly beating heart. 

    Despite their seniority within the Heroes’ Organization, the amount of solo missions they were assigned to was low. Extremely so. Even lower than that of some of the recruits and cadets. Most would have been bothered by the fact-- fearing that their superiors thought them to be worthless or not good enough. That fear didn’t apply to Hero, however.

    No. They knew exactly why they spent most of their days stalking around base, chatting with the medical staff or the engineers.

    After all, healing powers wouldn’t get you very far in a fight.

    Hell, they hadn’t even been supposed to go on this particular spying mission in the first place. Yet, of course, the cadet who was meant to take the simple job had broken their leg in a training accident. 

    It had sounded simple. Almost deceptively so-- as if there should have been something more to the whole thing. But, no. It was exactly as easy as it had been drawn out to be. Sneak into the villains’ temporary base, find out their numbers and exactly what kind of weaponry they possessed, and report back.

    They could have done it in an afternoon. But they just had to have taken the chance with the catwalk. They could have run, they’d had the chance, but…

    They’d been too scared. That was the other reason they were always stuck at base. They were a coward. The mission directors knew it.

    “What, hey, don’t die on me yet. That’d be boring.”

    Hibou’s voice cut through their swirling thoughts. Their eyes focused on the empty goggles looming above them.

    “And I hate when things are boring. So, answer my question.”

    “I- w- wh-”

    “Ugh. I said, what should we do with you?”

    “L- L-”

    “Come on, use your words.”

    “Let me go.” It croaked out of their parched throat like a forced tear. “Please.”

    “Oh, well, since you said please…” They rolled their eyes. “How about this. Let’s put it to a vote. This is a democracy, after all.”

    Next to Hibou’s goggled face appeared two more. One sharp and scaled around the eyes, the other with hair that hung down in wet mats. Akula and Zema. 

    “So, guys, what do you think? What should we do with them?”

    Hero felt to be a rabbit surrounded by cats.

    “Hey, boss?” Zema-- the scaled one-- spoke up. “What’s that on their shoulder?”

    “Hm?” Though their eyes could not be seen, Hero just knew that, in that moment, they lit up. “Oh, that. Now that is a good idea, Zema.”

    “Wh- What did you do to me!” Hero fought to jerk upwards, but was only met with a sharp hand forcing them back down. 

    “Oh, you know…” Hibou raised their other hand, the one not holding their captive down. The claws curled into as close to a fist as they could get. “When you came in to interrupt me and my work, I was just finishing up a special batch of… hm… what would a layman call it. A biopoison, I believe.”

    Hero choked.

    “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that, huh? That’s what you get for interrupting my work.”

    “So… they’re just gonna die?” Akula questioned.

    “Hm? Oh, I mean, without intervention, yes. Not immediately, though I could arrange that.” Ever so slightly, the claws moved towards Hero’s neck. “I guess we should probably just do that.”

    “W- Wait!” Hero gasped. “If it’s going to, uh, if it’s going to kill me anyways, then why not just let me go? It doesn’t matter either way, right?”

    Hibou smiled that horrible, wide smile.

    “You know, the little coward has a point. That’d be a lot more fun. You don’t want to die, though, do you?”

    One of those claws curled beneath Hero’s chin, forcing it upwards with the blunt end. It didn’t cut, but they knew that with any false move, it would.

    “No.” They managed to croak out.

    “So… hm. There’s something you want, and you can only get it from me. And, well, now that I think about it, there might just be something that you have that I want. Now, that sounds like a fair trade, doesn’t it?”

    “What is it? Please, anything. A- anything.”

    “That’s what I’d hoped you’d say. Hero, I think you know exactly what I want.”

    “N- No. I don’t.”

    “Of course you do.” The claw pushed their chin up even further, pressing the back of their head against the tile. “I want my kid back.”

    Hero’s eyes widened. They felt bile rise in their throat.

    “I can’t.”

    “Well, then, you’ll die. Easy as that.”

    “W- Wait-”

    “To me, it sounds like a very fair trade, Hero. We’ve had to spend so long watching our friend suffer… slowly rot away. And now, your friends will have to do the same. It’ll be easier for you, though. Your eyes will melt out of your skull far before the real gross stuff happens.”

    Hero gulped, feeling their throat press far too close to Hibou’s claws.

    “Is there any other way?”

    “Hmm… No. I don’t think so. Here’s my final offer, right now: You bring me my kid back. They’ll know where to find me. Then, I give you the antidote. Either that, or I cut your head off, here and now. I’ll even mail it back to your HQ, just as a little gift.”

    “I-”

    Hero felt their chest shudder. The sweat dripping from their forehead had long since dampened their hair. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Just some recon. Just a simple mission.

    But…

    “Okay. I accept.”

    “Good.”

    The pressure lifted almost immediately, finally allowing Hero to once again breathe. They scrambled to their feet, and were almost halfway out of the abandoned platform when they heard Hibou yell from behind:

    “The rash should start in about twelve hours! Just so you know!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

    It was the nature of a hunter to keep trophies of those that they had killed.

    Of course, not in the wild. In the wild, animals were simply content to fill their bellies. The only trophy needed of their hunting was the fact that they were still well and alive.

    Humans, however, did not have such a luxury. Survival was not a prize to be shown off. So, other methods had to be found. Trophies had to be taken. 

    Taken and displayed.

    No one questioned the scarf that Hero had wrapped tightly about their neck, despite the fact that it was the dead of summer. They had no time to question it. The other inhabitants of the Headquarters of the Heroes’ Organization had their own duties to complete, and not a second to spare in completing them.

    So, Hero found no difficulty in walking through the front doors, every step they took threatening to aggravate the already agonizing wound on their shoulder. 

    After a few steps, they found themself in the center of the entrance lobby, legs stiffened. Hibou’s words echoed in their mind, sharper than their blades, as their head tipped upwards. Their gaze raised to the trophy room.

    That was what everyone called it, anyways. It wasn’t so much of a room as much as it was a glass cylinder, sticking out from the railing of the upper floor. On first seeing it, cadets often panicked, fearing that it would fall at any moment. It appeared simply that precarious, even though it was, supposedly, practically indestructible. Even the glass itself was rated to withstand nuclear attack.

    There was a reason for that.

    The cylinder was rather large, maybe 20 feet in diameter. However, the vast majority of it was taken up by chains-- four of them, one from each side. Heavy iron things, each link likely too heavy to be lifted on its own. The four chains all converged at one point in the center.

    The trophy.

    Villain wasn’t a particular strong person. They may have been before their capture, but any strength they had had been long since drained away. They weren’t particularly tall, to begin with, but from the angle, they looked miniscule.

    The iron collar around their neck, resting heavily on their shoulders and collarbone, was the center point of the chains. Each hooked onto one side of the collar.

    Villain’s seated position pulled the chains practically completely taut, the weight of iron resting completely and totally on their neck. The pressure would have been less had they stood, but they had stopped doing that a long time ago.

    The grey cotton prisoner uniform had about as much color to it as their face.

    Hero couldn’t say they knew the story of Villain’s capture, nor what had warranted it. The trophy room had been there as long as they had been part of the organization. They supposed it was odd, just how quickly they had gotten used to it. The trophy room and the trophy it held were simply a part of HQ.

    If Villain were to disappear for a second, everyone in the building could and would notice it. 

    Hibou’s kid… Of course, they were truly related. They seemed about the same age. But the fondness with which those horrid villains spoke about their friend…

    Hero shook their head. If they kept acting like this, they’d get dragged to the infirmary with a thermometer shoved in their mouth in an instant. They began forward again, headed towards the staging room.

    They didn’t have any missions scheduled for the day, not that they knew of at least, and they were glad for that. Still, they had their unofficial duty, preparing the other heroes for their missions. 

    The staging room sat behind a pair of steel doors, requiring a retina scan to pass through, which Hero passed easily. The doors slid open as they stepped through, already feeling a dozen pairs of eyes lock to them. 

    Colloquially, the place was often referred to as the locker room, both literally and as a joke. Lockers lined the walls, while benches filled the rest, except for at the very front, where a pair of tables were well stocked with snacks, drinks, and basic medical supplies.

    After a second, most of the heroes looked down, having been satisfied that there was no threat. The only one that kept their head up was Teammate, who quickly waved Hero over. They obliged without thinking, sitting next to them on their bench. 

    “What’s up?” Hero questioned. Teammate didn’t respond for a moment, as they were pulling a sweater off over their head. When they were finished, they replied:

    “Eh, I’m good. What’s with the scarf?”

    “‘Tis called fashion.”

    “Fair enough.”

    “Where are you headed out to?”

    “Patrolling a hospital, they had a threat or something. You?”

    “I don’t do missions.” They did their best to accompany it with a smile.

    “You did yesterday, didn’t you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “How’d that go?’

    “Eh, it was fine. Spying missions are boring.”

    “There’s no lie there. Anyways, um, when I was fighting yesterday I kinda got this cut-”

    “Where?”

    “Right here, on my leg.”

    Teammate leaned down, rolling up one of their pant legs to knee height. Sure enough, across their shin, a wicked scar carved its red mark. Hero hardly thought about it as they placed a hand on the wound.

    A green glow emanated from their palm, flowing and wrapping around the injured leg. The wound’s ragged edges solidified with scar tissue, before knitting themselves together.

    It was so simple. A grievous wound, dealt with in an instant.

    Of course, that was all they could do. Healing powers weren’t magic, not really. They couldn’t bring back the dead. They could only accelerate what the body already had the ability to do. A cold? Gone in a second? A biopoison?

    Well, they couldn’t bring back the dead.

    The wound finished its knitting, and Hero withdrew their hand. Teammate offered a quick smile, speaking:

    “Thanks so much, see ya’ later!”

    Before running off. Off on a mission. Off doing something important.

    Something good.

    Hero slumped forward on the bench, feeling a horrible exhaustion overtake them. When the call for their help came, they weren’t exactly surprised. It was quick, short, simply:

    “Is Hero here? I need Hero.”

    They raised their head, expecting to see a cadet who had hit their arm or something.

    Instead, standing halfway in the doorway, face a mask of panic, stood a person in a lab coat. They clutched themself, arms around their chest, trembling visible from halfway across the room. They met Hero’s gaze.

    “Come on, come on. Quickly, please.”

    There was nothing in their voice but panic. Even urgence was drowned out by sheer fear. Hero was on their feet in an instant, on the heels of the doctor who was moving at the same speed. They ran, together, all the way to the medical wing, on the other side of the floor.

    From there, they moved along a small catwalk, leading to-

    Hero didn’t even look up to realize the destination until they were already there.

    The only access to the trophy room was a small, horribly narrow catwalk. A horde of doctors was already flooding it, but they moved out of Hero’s way without question. The first doctor stopped in front of the door to the glass cylinder, which was sealed with just about every type of lock known to man.

    “They’re unresponsive.” The explanation was quick, curt. “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “What?”

    “Do you know how to put on a hazmat suit?”

    “I-”

    “Here, here, I-”

    “Why do I need a hazmat suit!”

    “It’s not safe in there, you can’t go in without one.”

    Hero’s gaze darted to the interior of the cylinder. Half of the chain had gone taut, while the other two were slack, on account of the fact that Villain had slumped over, all their weight supported only by the collar around their neck. In the little visible skin that the collar revealed, horrible red marks could be gleaned.

    “They look like they’re dead.” They whispered in horror. “Why do I need a hazmat suit?”

    “Their powers, they’ll hurt you.”

    “Even when they’re unconscious?”

    “Well, no, but-”

    Hero’s hands latched onto one of the padlocks, straining against it, trying to pull the metal apart. It did nothing, of course. They didn’t have superstrength. But it simply felt like the right thing to do.

    Eventually, someone handed them a key, then another, and another after that, until every lock on the door was opened. They swung it open, leaping inside, heart in their ears. Every panicked beat sent a new shock of diseased pain through their shoulder.

    Ducking and stepping over chains, they maneuvered until they were at Villain’s side. Their first thought was to check for a pulse-- it was weak, but there.

    They gritted their teeth.

    Hero was going to save Hibou’s kid, and by god, neither of them were going to die.

[pl-panda]

The vines that bind us - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 || Previous || Next

------

She opened the window and picked a pencil. With deadly precision she tossed it. The wooden tool sailed through the air until it hit the binoculars and broke one side of them. She huffed and closed the window before pulling the curtains closed. How rude.

Jason cursed under his breath. Any other day he would probably avoid the projectile, but it caught him completely by surprise. By all accounts, it was physically impossible to use a pencil with such precision and force to destroy military-grade night-vision binoculars. At least the memory card was safe so he could give it to replacement later on for analysis.

Still in bad mood after having his gear ruined, Jason zipped to Dupain-Cheng’s window and gave a light knock. No response. Another knock. Still no response. Finally, after the third knock, the blinders opened and the window itself followed, revealing a very angry girl. Jason finally had a chance to get a better look at her. She did, in fact, have blue hair and now that he’d seen it close, he would bet half his paycheque that it was somehow a natural color. The purple too. She must have had her hair dyed for the first day of work. Her eyes were another part that he memorized. They were blue and iridescent green at the same time, giving a slight unnatural aura. Or maybe it was just that she looked ready to murder him.

“Are you done staring?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You are not my type and much too old. And the stalker routine is plain creepy. Get lost old guy.”

She was about to close the window when he started speaking.

“I actually came to apologize. I did not ‘stalk’ you, thank you very much. I was just checking on you, miss. You do realize that you single-handedly kicked Riddler’s ass and got quite a bit of publicity.”

“Suuure. You do that for every brave citizen?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and a small grin. “You would be really short-staffed. I hope that overgrown furry does pay you for the overtime.” Any traces of amusement disappeared from her face. “Now get lost before I sic Chloe on you. She recently started dating Damian Wayne and the two seem to bond over ruining people. I’m sure you would make a decent target.” Without further ado, Mari closed the window and put the blinders back in place, completely cutting him off. 

Jason didn’t protest. He was too busy processing the fact that Demon Spawn apparently started dating someone. Oh, he would have so much fun teasing the little menace. 

----------------

When the motorbike entered the Batcave, Jason expected to meet perhaps the Replacement or Demon Spawn. He definitely did not expect to see the entire family sans B and Alfred. 

“Do you want to perhaps explain why dad received an angry call about ‘some idiot in red bucket’ stalking her through the window?” Barbara asked. frowning deeply. 

“Or at least why were you stalking her?” Dick added.

“Or where you hid my coffee?” Tim joined.

“Timothy!” Several of them shouted.

“What? It’s important!”

“Back to the matter at hand.” Dick turned back to Jason. “What exactly were you thinking?!” He screamed.

“Geez. You thought about joining some opera?”

“Tt. Answer the question.” Damian interrupted.

“That reminds me. Did you know Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend?” Jason asked, trying to deflect. He really did not like how they jumped at him.

“Not… important.” Cass stared daggers at him. “Talk.”

“Fine!” he threw hands in the air. “I followed a hunch. And I was right. She is a meta!” He procured his destroyed binoculars. “There is no human way to destroy military-grade equipment like that with just a pencil.”

Tim picked it up and quickly tossed it onto the table nearby. A blue light scanned the products and the bat-computer started to display the scan plus introductory analysis.

“Well, he is right. There is no way that a simple pencil could destroy it.” He pressed some buttons and recording from the last seconds of the item’s life played. They could clearly see her throw a pencil at it and then everything went black. “Or I was wrong.” Tim started to do a series of calculations. 

“Bucket-head might be onto something. With her muscle mass, it would be impossible to throw a pen with enough force. Actually, it’s almost impossible to make that throw. Not with human muscle density…”

Barbara rolled over to him and the two started to work side by side. “But that’s also not probable since the body is not…” 

“She would probably…” 

“Plant fibers have a similar structure, but she would…” 

“Maybe… Unless she is not strong and instead…”

“Um… earth to nerd corner. Can you explain?”

“Jason might have hit the bullseye.” Tim grinned and several groans could’ve been heard. “She is definitely a meta. It still doesn’t explain why you stalked her.”

“Is that not reason enough?” Red Hood asked. He immediately regretted it when Duke stared daggers at him. 

“You do realize, that metahumans are not as rare as it was believed at the beginning?” Tim asked.

“What?”

“Roughly ten percent of humans are born with dormant meta-gene and the number is increasing each year. And about one in twenty people have an active meta-gene. They just don’t go around wrecking everything or don a cape and run around beating people.” Tim spoke in a matter-of-factly tone. 

“What?”

“Yeah. Eidetic memory, or perfect recall for our uneducated bucket-head,” Tim snickered while Jason grumbled.

“I hate that name.”

“I think it will stay for a while.” Stephanie was smiling. “She does have a way with nicknames. First an overgrown furry, then red Buckethead…” She was on the verge of laughing. “I wonder what she does next?”

“As I was saying,” Tim regained the control of the conversation, “eidetic memory is actually one of the earliest forms of registered active meta-ability.”

“What?”

“The gene tends to activate under extreme duress, but, as we learned, the definition of extreme duress varies from person to person.”

“So what? A guy afraid of failing an exam might accidentally unlock super memory?” Jason dismissed it.

“More like if someone lived in years under pressure and is about to crack.” Dick pointed. “I mean there was even this large awareness campaign about four years ago led by Beast Boy. Where were you?”

“Dead.” Jason deadpanned. “I was dead.”

“Oh… I guess you didn’t see Garfield’s movies then?” Steph asked, being the first to break through the heavy atmosphere.

“She is still a meta.” Jason tried to fight, but his arguments were wavering. 

“Which changes nothing. You will go to her tomorrow and apologize.” Tim said categorically. 

“Ugh! Fine. But I got one more interesting fact: Demon Spawn got himself a girlfriend.” He grinned and turned to Damian. Everyone followed his gaze.

“Tt. I have no idea what you are talking about Todd.” 

“That blonde! Charlie saw you two sitting and eating pastries together! She is the new intern!” Dick had a big fat smile on his face and his eyes were almost glittering. “Who is she? How did you two meet?”

“Blonde?” Tim suddenly paled considerably. “There is only one blonde intern. Please tell me you aren’t dating Chloe Bourgeoise of all people!” He squeaked.

Damian wanted to deny it further, but seeing the Replacement’s reaction he changed his mind. The grin that formed on his face was borderline malicious before turning back to the emotionless mask he wore every day. “Yes. She finally admitted that I was not at fault for the cake incident. She is actually tolerable now.” 

“What cake incident?” Steph asked, smelling some juicy story about her ex. That kind of story was the best.

“Tt. When we were at this gala in Paris two years ago, Replacement attacked me and we fell into the birthday cake.”

“It doesn’t sound…” Dick started, but Damian interrupted him.

“The cake had six levels and was about as tall as I am now. Mayor Bourgeoise was not happy that we ruined his precious princess’s birthday.”

“So that’s why we no longer go to Paris?”

“Tt. No. That’s because Jason almost trashed the Louvre.” 

“Right…” Tim mumbled while his eyes closed. In just a moment, he was snoring away on the chair.

“Damn. I thought it would work faster.” Barbara complained while peeling the near-invisible sticker away from his neck. 

-----

Thursday actually passed without any trouble for Marinette. The class finally got it through their collective single brain cell that she had the power to end their trip with two words. She was slowly getting the grip on the work and after some talk with Penny, where the woman practically forced Mari to listen to some additional advice. She was actually offended that the girl didn’t call her immediately. 

She did have to practically drag her barely conscious boss to a meeting in the afternoon, but he didn’t put up much of a fight after she gave him a Tikki Special Coffee. The small goddess giggled inside her pocket the entire time as the boy begged on his knees.

After work, she and Chloe went to the Gotham Zoological Garden. At first, she wanted to go to the Botanic Garden first, but their class was supposed to visit there after work, so the girls went to Zoo instead. Gotham had a much broader collection of birds than Paris did. And the less chance of running into their classmates, the better.

“...He did what?” Chloe asked louder than necessary, but nobody paid the two girls in smart outfits any attention.

“Yeah. But don’t worry. I gave him a piece of my mind.” Mari dismissed it.

“It’s still creepy.”

“I know. That’s why I sicced the police at him.”

“That’s my girl!” 

“Well, I threatened to send you and Damian after him, but I decided it would be too cruel.” She smiled. “Besides, I’ve seen that Red Buckethead is trending already.” She pulled out her phone and showed a post there was a picture of Red Hood next to a reversed red bucket.

FashionMari @QueenGoldie Someone in a red bucket was stalking me. I was torn between calling the police and criticizing their fashion choice. In the end, I did both. 

“Only you Goldie. Only you…”

--------

Friday was press conference day. For once, Mari woke up earlier and got dressed in record time. Chloe watched from the side-lines as the girl moved around like a tornado, preparing everything and triple-checking all arrangements. She changed outfits four times before finally the blonde grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit down. 

“Goldie! You know I love you and I would kill for you,” She started, “but if you don’t calm down I will tie you up and leave you here for the day.”

“But…!” Bluenette tried to protest, but Chloe cut her off.

“No buts. We are only sixteen. I for one came here to learn a bit and maybe meet someone. You are supposed to be learning. Nobody said anything about getting a full-time job.”

“The deal…”

“So what if they fire you?” Chloe raised her hands over her head. “Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous! You have Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeoise fighting over who will get you while Jagged Stone is willing to fly over half the world just to give your references in person. You run a very successful flower shop and even more successful boutique.”

“But…” She tried to muster a weak protest, but Chloe’s angry gaze made her wither. 

“I will not let you run yourself dry!” The blonde stated firmly. “So either you take a step back and breathe or I will call your uncle.”

“Not uncle Jagged! he already banned me from drinking coffee!”

“So you will behave?” Chloe asked with a smirk. 

“Fiiiinneee!” Mari couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Queenie. I needed this. I’m glad I have you as my friend. And sister.” 

“Well of course you needed me! Everyone needs me!” She huffed before her expression became more gentle and she pulled Mari into a hug. 

Downstairs the class was waiting for them. Probably they finally gathered the courage to confront her about Alya’s fate. The girl shouldn’t have lied while filing for promotion. Mari and Chloe stormed past them not even sparing them a glance. Outside, Adrien was already waiting inside the limousine with Gerard at the driver’s seat. 

“I’m glad your driver is finally here.”

“Me too!” The blond boy was practically beaming. “I’m free from Lila’s clutches.”

“Could you drop us at… No. 2 Twine Street?” Mari asked the gorilla, who only grunted in response.

“Um… We should be going to Wayne Tower.”

“Nope.” Mari popped the ‘p’. “You,” she pointed at Adrien, “are an intern in PR. I asked for you to be present at the press conference to help move stuff around and so on.” 

“And me?” Chloe asked. “If you expect me to…” 

“You’re there to support your boyfriend. He was the one that practically demanded that I get you there. He hates publicity.”

“Oh… Good then. Let’s go.”

“Boyfriend?” Adrien asked curiously. “You mean Wayne?”

“Yeah. Apparently Chloe found herself a partner in scheming.”

“I bet that their dates are filled with planning to take over the world.”

“We could’ve taken the world over by lunch if we wanted.” Chloe looked almost offended. “The question is what way would be the most suitable one.” 

All three of them broke into laughter as the car rode through the city of crime.

----

About fifteen minutes before the press conference was scheduled to start, Tim Drake was still not there. None of the Waynes were there in fact. She sent about fifteen angry messages to Mr. Drake and he was still not here, which only fueled her stress and anger. 

The press had no idea so far and they were eagerly awaiting whatever news the company wanted to present. She bit her lower lips. Chloe was on the phone, trying to reach her boyfriend.

“If that idiot doesn’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m going to consider stabbing him.” 

“Damian?!” Chloe shouted into her phone. 

“Tt. What do you want?”

“First of all, that’s not how you talk to your girlfriend. Second of all, where in the world is your excuse of a brother?! Mari is an inch from going ballistic!”

“Tt. He��s asleep.” Damian answered in an impassionate tone.

Mari leaped over and wrestled the phone from Chloe. “You go to him right this moment or I swear to all that’s holy and…”

“I get it.” He interrupted her, showing signs of irritation. There were some static and the camera blurred for a moment from the fast motion. When it returned, she saw barely awake Tim Drake wearing blue onesies. 

“wah…”

“Get yourself cleaned up and into a suit in the next three minutes!” She shouted. God bless the soundproof backstage.

“Um… But I will never make…”

“I’m certain you have a great webcam somewhere in this big mansion of yours. Set it in the library and call me in the next few minutes. I so hope you were not supposed to be the model because gods help me…” She took a look at his terrified face. “Of course you were…” 

“In my defense…”

“Shut up. Get going!” She hanged up and turned to Adrien and Chloe, who were looking at her with a mixture of fear and awe. “What are you waiting for?!” She tossed a package to the boy. “You get dressed in the new product.” She pushed him outside and into the janitor’s closet on the other side. “And you’re coming with me!” She dragged Chloe toward the main room. The blonde was sent to the technics room to get the feed started while Mari stepped on the scene. The chatter died quickly and all reporters turned to her.

“Hi. Please forgive us for the slight delay. We have minor technical difficulties that are being solved as we speak. In the meantime, you are free to take the seats. The conference is about to start.” 

Behind her, a screen slowly descended. She saw Adrien leaning from the doors leading backstage and smiling at her. 

“Without further ado, I present you Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

The image of the teen with black hair appeared on the screen and he waved everyone. He was holding a red cup of coffee with black polka dots, the same Tikki summoned for him the first time. 

Satisfied with herself, Marinette allowed herself a moment of rest. The conference was going well and after a minute of silence for the dead in the recent attack, the presentation began. Adrien was a natural model so it all went great. Wayne Tech in co-operation with Gabriel brand was introducing a new line of ‘smart’ fabric that could withstand medium stress and was almost impossible to dirty or stain. She had to admit it was quite amazing. Apparently, it was partially how Mr. Agreste got her class internship. Granted, Adrien was not supposed to be the model but you don’t look a gifted horse in the mouth. 

Everything was going great until the doors to the room were kicked open and several goons barged in, followed by none other than Two-face. Everyone immediately fell onto the floor. Mari couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly. Why did it have to go wrong at every turn?

Ignoring the terrified stares, she stormed toward the intruders. “Excuse me, sir?” She asked with an emotionless face.

“What?” The man looked clearly irritated.

“I don’t see your name on the guest list. Did you remember to call in advance?”

“Of course not! Do I look like…” The criminal was clearly angry. 

“Then I apologize, but I must ask you to leave now.” 

“Do you have any idea who I am?” Two-face pulled his gun.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you are not on on the list, I can’t let you stay.” She said in an emotionless voice. Mari was honestly too tired to care at this point. Maybe at least the evening would be better.

“I’m not sure you get the situation, miss. I’m not here for the interviews. Everyone pull out your wallets and drop them in the sacks!” He shouted while his men started to walk around.

“Hm… That won’t do.” She said. After muttering something under her breath, Mari tossed her clipboard. The spinning board hit one of the mooks in the head, knocking him cold, before bouncing and hitting the next one. After that, it returned to her hand. 

That was enough for Two-Face. He aimed his gun at her, but she moved faster than he anticipated. Within seconds, she grabbed his wrist and pushed it up so he was aiming at the ceiling. She squeezed it hard enough to make him drop the gun right into her other waiting hand. The girl let go of his wrist and disassembled the gun into pieces in what could become record time. 

Now irritated, Mari grabbed Two-face by his tie and pulled him down until they were at the same eye-level. 

“I was trying to do it peacefully sir. I am now ordering you to leave. Otherwise, I will actually have to hurt you.” She leaned closer until she was able to whisper. “And don’t make mistakes, Dent. I can and will hurt you.” For a moment her eyes lost the blue coloring and became entirely iridescent green, glowing slightly. 

Harvey Dent rarely felt fear. His life was more often than not guided by the toss of a coin. Now though, he stared in the eyes of Poison Ivy, except ten times scarier. He was already afraid of that woman after she almost fed him to her ‘precious’.

“I… I am deeply sorry madame.” He spoke carefully. “Men! We are moving out. Leave the bags!” And with that, they were all gone. 

Most of the reporters gave Mari big applause. There was only one angry old man that stared daggers at the girl. 

“You let that scum go away!” He shouted. “He was a criminal.”

“Sir. You are free to go after him if that’s your wish. I’m at work and my job description never included chasing after criminals.”

“But… But…” 

“Anyway, we were in the middle of the press conference if I’m not mistaken.”

-------

NEXT

[jalapeno-princess]

Bad For You Chapter 1

Fuckboy Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff (in future chapters), smut(maybe in a future chapter I’m still debating how I feel about that)

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Being a senior in college with less than two semesters in your entire educational career, you try your best not to get stuck in situations that will bring you any kind of stress. Unlike most of your classmates, you never searched for entertainment and fun in the college nightlife; partying, clubbing, getting drunk, high and hooking up with random strangers. You believed in working towards what will benefit you in the future. One day, your English professor gives you the opportunity of a lifetime; to pass his class without having to do anything at all. Most students would jump at his offer without hesitation. But what happens when what he’s asking of you just so happens to be the last thing you would ever find yourself wanting to do? Tutoring the same person you vowed never to get involved with? Mark Tuan was bad news and you’ve sworn to yourself that you wouldn’t interact with him under any circumstances. However, the offer is too good to refuse, but will it really be worth it in the end?

A/N: Hey guys! So this is the first chapter of my new series and I already have an idea of how I’m going to go about with this story I hope everything works out the way I want it to. I’m expecting to have about 5-6 chapters, but then again I never go through with what I plan. This first chapter is just an introduction as to how the main characters meet and so it might be kind of boring and more of a filler chapter but I’m sure the next one will be more interesting. Please enjoy!

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The sound of a clock ticking during a very important exam that was worth more than half of your grade had to be one of the most annoying and infuriating noises in the entire world; you were sure of it. 

That damn clock on the wall mocked you—with each click, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to scream out in frustration and cause every one of your classmates to turn and look at you as if you were a wild animal. You sure felt like one. 

It was as though every time the big hand moved, you’d forget one important piece of information that you studied multiple hours for in order to memorize. No matter how many all-nighters you pulled in the last week, all the notes that you took and repeatedly looked over—nothing seemed to be clicking. 

Your mind was drawing a blank and it was really upsetting you. Ever since you were a little girl, you ate, breathed and slept your education. All you ever wanted was to succeed and do well in school. 

It didn’t help that your parents put this immense pressure on you to succeed—being the youngest and only daughter out of four children led your parents in to expecting a lot more out of you than they did with your three older brothers. They were also extremely overprotective when it came to you. 

Your brothers could go out and do whatever it was that they wanted; attend all these college frat parties, go to numerous bars only to get drunk off their asses and have your parents go and pick them up, drive all around Los Angeles and even leaving your sunny state of California to travel around cities like Las Vegas, Chicago and even New York. Hell, you couldn’t even cross the street by yourself let alone do anything most people would consider fun and exciting. 

Everyone who knew of your existence considered you to be a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet. You found fun in reading and watching documentaries about murderous affairs. Most people your age were constantly partying, getting drunk, high or both. You never understood why anyone would waste their time and money on unnecessary substances such as alcohol and drugs, but you were never one to judge. 

Every now and then, your professor would inform the class how much time everyone had left to complete the exam. To everyone’s dismay, the door was slammed open; all eyes turned towards the front of the room—curious about who just entered. As soon as your gaze landed on him, you rolled your eyes in irritation. 

“Professor Lee, I’m so sorry I’m late. I—“

“I don’t want to hear it Mr.Tuan, no excuses. You have less than twenty minutes to complete your exam. There’s no retakes, so instead of trying to get out of this one, I’d suggest you take out a pen, piece of paper and start writing.” 

The boy in question made his way towards where you were sitting and gave you a smirk before sitting right behind you. Anyone and everyone who knew Mark was well aware as to why he was tardy. His tousled hair and swollen lips gave it away; it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what he was up to. 

You couldn’t care less about what he did; you hardly even knew the guy, so whatever he would do in his free time didn’t matter to you. As you began to finish up on your last few questions, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Pssst. Y/n.” 

Ignore him and he’ll leave you alone y/n. 

Every time Mark would try and get your attention, whether it was to borrow a pencil or to coerce you in to giving him the answers on one of your assignments, you’d find yourself groaning in frustration. It’s as though he got a rise out of getting under your skin. 

In the three months that you’ve had him in your English 345 class, you observed the fact that he never seemed to bother any of your other classmates except you. He had classmates sitting on either side of him, yet he never once spoke to them. 

You’ve known Mark since middle school; he was one year older than you and he lived down your road, but the two of you never really interacted with one another. You came from two different social groups; his group of friends were very well known throughout your entire campus. 

All seven members were apart of a sports team and they had to be the most attractive guys at your university. They were also notorious for being quite the players; none of them were in stable relationships. 

Mark and his friends were known to hook up with random girls whose names they’d never end up learning and none of them slept with the same person twice. That’s just who they were. 

Every Friday night, they’d throw a party at one of their apartments, one of the sorority houses or they’d rent out a hotel room. You made a pact with yourself to never get involved with any one of them. The last thing you needed was to get your heartbroken by an asshole who could give less of a shit about you. 

You refused to allow any one of his friends; Mark in particular, take advantage of your kind hearted and gentle personality. As much as you wish you could be a cold-hearted, selfish person; especially because so many people have done you wrong in the twenty-two years of your existence, you could never hurt anyone or do anyone wrong the way they would so easily do to you. It just never felt right. 

However, Mark Tuan was someone you wouldn’t care about hurting. He obviously didn’t care about anyone but himself and his atrocious group of friends; so you never allowed him to irritate you for longer than a few minutes. Luckily, he never took things further than a couple of snarky comments and throwing paper airplanes at you every now and then, but you could do without all of his childish antics. 

Sometimes, you wondered why he chose you of all people to pick on and disturb. Maybe it’s because you were one of the only people he’s known since childhood, or because everyone was well aware of your friendly and welcoming personality. You were also considered the teacher’s pet for most of your professors. 

A few of them; your biology, calculus—and even your English professor for this class had asked you to be their teacher’s assistant because they were confident they could trust in you to help them with their classes. Unfortunately, you had to decline. 

With having a full-time job and taking on five classes, there was so much on your plate already and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give them the support and time they needed from their assistants. You had only three questions left to answer and you were more than happy to finally finish the test. 

The word exhausted wasn’t even enough to describe just how tired you were. You worked a ten hour shift yesterday because two of your co-workers called in sick and you didn’t have the courage to tell your boss that you were tired from pulling an all-nighter the day before. 

All you wanted to do was return back to your apartment and fall asleep for the rest of the week. The constant tap on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts and for a second, you almost forgot that you were in the middle of an exam. A groan of disbelief was at the tip of your tongue; who did he think he was coming in to class just minutes before it ended, expecting you to help him because it was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was doing. 

“Y/n, what did you get for number 5? Hey—pssst—y/n—“ 

You continued to scribble down a few more sentences on the last question; wanting nothing more than to get out of the lecture hall but Mark adamantly had other plans. 

“Come on, please? I don’t know how to answer this—“

“Mark, this is an exam. I can’t help you—“

“Just this one time. I promise. I’m already doing bad in this class. I can’t afford to fail—“

“Well that’s not my problem Mark. You need to learn how to manage your priorities better—“

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“ 

Right as you were about to retaliate and make a comment about his fuckboy lifestyle, a new presence joined the two of you and you felt yourself tense up at his words. 

“Mr.Tuan, Miss y/l/n, is there a problem here?” 

You shook your head in disagreement and mentally cursed the older boy for putting you in this situation. Not once in your entire educational career have you ever been called out by one of your teachers for not doing what you were supposed to and that was because you never failed to accomplish whatever it was that you were expected to do. There was no way you would let Mark Tuan out of all people get in the way of the reputation you’ve worked so hard to maintain as one of the top students at your university.

“No problem here sir, I was just asking y/n to borrow an eraser.”

Absentmindedly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how easily the lie fell from his lips. This happened to be the first class you had him in, but you had a huge feeling he was like this whenever there was something he desired. Whether it was school related, or a way to soothe his carnal urges, Mark would do whatever in his power to get whatever or whoever it was that he wanted. 

It was adamant that he wasn’t going to do well on this test no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t strike you as someone who studied, nor did he seem like he cared about his education in the first place. None of his friends did. College was more about the night life experience; the alcohol, constant partying, drugs, sex—school was the last of any of their worries and you believed that one day, it would all come back to bite them all in the ass. 

“Hm, is that so? Well then, please return back to your exams and if you don’t mind staying back, I’d like to talk to the both of you about something.”

If looks could kill, Mark would be six feet underground with the glare you were now sending him. The universe was not on your side at all today. Not only did the coffee shop get your order wrong, but your botany professor assigned you a group project you weren’t at all excited for and now—you were in trouble for something that wasn’t even your fault. 

To both his and your surprise, you turned around and flipped Mark off. You hated the fact that his stupidity and ignorance was causing you to do all of these spiteful actions that you have never once done to anyone else. He was just that big of a narcissistic asshole and with the way he smirked at you, it was all the more evident that he was enjoying himself. 

Mark got in trouble many times in class—or so you’ve heard people talk about. Everyone talked about him; no matter who it was, every single student on your campus knew of him. Some had nothing but envy and respect towards him and others never understood what was so good about him that the boys wanted to be him and the girls wanted to be under him. 

You were one of the latter; other than his devastatingly handsome looks and how much of an amazing volleyball player he was, Mark didn’t have anything else going for him. He was the definition of a prick; he was cocky and treated people like shit. He also had a brain the size of a peanut which came as a shock seeing as how his younger brother Joey graduated over a year ago and had his bachelor’s degree in pharmaceutical engineering.

In fact, the entire Tuan family seemingly had great heads on their shoulders. Mark’s father owned one of the highest ranking tech companies in all of California. His mom and his oldest sister were realtors. You understood that his wealth and the success of his family were the only reasons why he wasn’t expelled from school. If it were anyone else, they would have been kicked out as soon as their g.p.a dropped below 2.0 like Mark’s was rumored to be. 

“Good going dickhead.” 

He cheekily winked at you before turning his attention back to his exam. You were going to make his life a living hell for what he put you through. Less than ten minutes later, your professor let the entire class know that time was up and one by one, your classmates began exiting the room. You could feel your blood pressure and anxiety levels rising at the thought of getting detention for Mark’s unintelligent disruption. 

As soon as the last person left, you began to come up with what you were going to tell your teacher. You were willing to admit the fact that Mark was trying to cheat and get some answers from you. It wasn’t as though anything bad would happen to him anyway. 

He’d get away with trying to get you to give him answers and maybe even torment you for throwing him under the bus. Oh God, what did you get yourself in to? Your professor sat on his desk as he motioned for the two of you to walk towards him. 

A soft sigh fell from his lips and you were sure you could pass out because of how nervous you were. Even if you knew you didn’t do anything wrong, you were still freaking out about the consequences that came with helping someone on a test. 

“Y/n, I just want to start off by saying you’re not in trouble. So, there’s nothing you need to worry about. However, it has come to my attention that you are looking towards getting an internship at the state capital. You’re majoring in law right? Well, I have a proposition for you, and I know—you might not like this and I’m sorry for asking you to do me such a huge favor like this. I’m sure you’re already busy as it is, but—“ He didn’t even have to ask just yet, you already had a feeling that his favor had to do with the remarkably inadequate boy on the right of you. 

“Could you tutor Mark for me? Well, not just for me. His professors sent me emails about what they can do to help him.” 

He turned over to Mark and released a soft sigh. You felt as though you were going to throw up. Tutor Mark? Seriously? You would rather rip out your eyelashes one by one. There was no way you would do such a thing. Sure, you were willing to stay after class and help your professors grade papers or you could come up with lesson plans in order to cut down the amount of work they had to do, but there was no way in hell you were going to do anything with or for Mark. 

“I don’t like talking negatively about students. I know you’re a smart kid Mark. I acknowledge the fact that you do try; you’re such a great writer, but you don’t put your heart or mind in to anything beneficial. There’s honestly nothing else I can say or do to get you to try harder. You have so much potential, but you fail to use any of it. You could go far in life Mark, but you choose paths that will bring you nothing but destruction. Don’t get me wrong, you’re still so young and I’m sure you want to live your life to the fullest. But sometimes, you need to give up any kind of toxicity that will only bring you down. Y/n—a few other professors and I are willing to write you multiple letters of recommendation and I’m going to give you an immediate A for this class. You don’t have to worry about any other exams or assignments. Most of your time will be taken up trying to help assist Mark. I still expect you to listen in on our lectures just so you can understand and learn the course material, but you don’t have to worry about studying for any tests. I trust that you would pass all of them nonetheless. I know, I shouldn’t be asking you to help another student and please don’t feel like you have to do this. But just know that I and all your other professors would be more than grateful if you do decide to go along with my offer. I’ll give you a week to think about it. You may go now.” 

All the blood in your body immediately began to rush to your head. Everything your professor explained to you went through one ear and out the other. You were being offered to pass the class with flying colors without having to worry about completing any assignments or taking quizzes—anyone in their right minds would willingly accept his proposition. It was the easiest A you could ever receive, yet in order to access it, you would have to go against everything you’ve set your mind to. 

All the pacts you’ve made with yourself regarding Mark or any of his inconsiderate group of friends, were you really going to allow yourself to get involved with someone notorious for manipulating and taking advantage of other individuals without a care in the world? Sure, you wouldn’t have to worry about one of your classes and you’d have more time to focus on your more difficult subjects, but it would be at the cost of your morals and beliefs. 

Mark Tuan was no good—even if it was only tutoring, you had a bad feeling in your gut that he would end up hurting you one way or another. You didn’t consider yourself to be the kind of girl Mark would mess around with or find attractive in any way, but then again—it didn’t matter what the person looked like or what their personality was like. 

Everyone was just another body added to his count of poor unfortunate souls who were tricked in to finding their way in to bed with him. Once your professor excused you, you practically ran out of the building. Knowing that you were his only option, you were well aware that Mark would probably look for you and try to coerce you in to accepting the offer. If that did end up happening, you would stand your ground. 

You weren’t afraid of Mark, nor did you consider him all that intimidating like everyone on campus did. He wasn’t going to get to you that easily, no matter how hard he would put in an effort to. Your professor gave you a week to think about it and there was nothing your school’s notorious bad boy could say or do to influence you to agree in helping him. As you were right about to unlock your car door, you heard feet running in the distance. It didn’t take a genius to know just who the footsteps belonged to. Hell, you picked up your pace in order to avoid him. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

If only you could continue your cold facade; there was a voice telling you to jump in your car and leave without giving him the time of day. You would just deal with him tomorrow. But  you knew being brash wasn’t in your nature—you could never be mean to anyone. Even people like Mark who obviously deserved it. 

There was no way you’d forgive yourself for showing him hostility; you’d only be sinking to his level. You released a frustrated groan—did he not even take a second to think about how much of an inconvenience he was right now? First, he bothered you during a very important exam, then he got you involved in catching the unwanted attention of your professor and now you’re being asked to tutor him. 

Mark Tuan was the devil in human form, he had to be. There was no other plausible explanation as to why he is the conniving asshole you’ve grown accustomed to interact with in the last few months. It’s as if he had vengeance against you. Why else would he include you in his toxic way of going through school? You turned around to face him and crossed your arms in irritation. Right after he caught up to you, he placed both hands on his knees as if he was trying to catch his breath. 

“What? Did you sprint here?”

“Obviously. I had a feeling there was a chance you’d want to talk to me about the deal our professor offered me, but I don’t have the energy to listen to you talk me in to doing so—“

“Come on y/n, you act like tutoring me is the worst thing on this entire earth—“

“Because it is. Look, I have a week to think about this okay? So if I were you, I’d watch how you act towards me and how you talk to me. Whether or not you graduate next spring is all on me. I’m going to warn you right now, nothing you can say or do will have an effect on my decision. If I decide to tutor you, it’s because I want to. Oh, and don’t think it’s because I don’t want to do work or tests. If anything, I would rather complete assignments and study for exams. The option he gave me isn’t an easy way out, so I don’t want you spreading bullshit lies about me just to make me look bad. If I say no, there’s no trying to get me to say yes. Am I clear?” 

This was the first time you’ve ever seen Mark look worried in the many years that you’ve known him for. Almost everyone in his life, teachers, professors, fellow classmates, his friends and even some of his family members—they willingly gave him whatever it was that he asked for. You never understood why; why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t all that muscular or buff. In fact, you’d mentally call him a limp noodle whenever he’d get on your nerves because he was quite the skinny guy. 

But he’s always been like that. Mark was like a chihuahua; he was all bark and no bite. Maybe he used his family’s power and wealth against others, or maybe he would promise financial or social gain to make others succumb to his wishes. Whatever it was—you needed him to know that it wouldn’t work on you. It was obvious that no one has ever talked to Mark the way you currently were just by the way he looked at you in shock. 

You were a force to be reckoned with. If Mark considered you to be a soft spoken, quiet pushover, then boy—did he have something coming for him. He wasn’t wrong to think like that; you were a genuinely kind-hearted soul. However, that was to those who deserved it. Mark wasn’t on that list, nor would he ever make it there. Ever.

“Fine. Just—please think about it? No funny business, I promise. I just—I want to know. Be honest with me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to cause you so much anguish and distress? Is it something I said? Did? Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Sincerely. I’m not saying that in order to win brownie points or to get on your good side, I mean it. You are the only person on this entire campus who seems to take a disliking to me and I want you to know that I’m sorry.” 

As soon as the last word of apology fell from his lips, you could feel your throat getting choked up. You wanted to believe he was trying to come up with ways to make you feel bad for him; to get you to really think about helping him out. But there was no malice in his speech—his eyes looked so sincere. If he was lying, then damn—he deserved a fucking Oscar. 

Deep down in your heart though, you knew he was being serious. Why were you now feeling bad that you were vehemently treating him like the scum under your toes? Obviously, you weren’t going to grovel at his feet the way most of the girls at your university did—but that didn’t mean you couldn’t be civil with him. 

Mark hasn’t cared about his attendance or grade in this class since the beginning of the semester—so it really boggled your mind as to why he was trying to be involved in his education right now. That wasn’t your business to have knowledge of. You and Mark weren’t friends. You’d probably never ever be friends, so the reasoning for his sudden interest in putting his focus towards his education wasn’t your problem to deal with. 

You brought your vision to the ground; your converse seemed like the most interesting thing in the world at the moment. There was no way you could look at him, you were sure you’d give him your answer if you were to look at him and see how distraught he was from your hostility. You opened the back seat of your car and threw in your bag and your books before making your way to the front seat. 

Thankfully, Mark had a conscience and moved out of the way. He probably didn’t want to get even more so on your nerves and you appreciated his new timid nature. 

Mark Tuan had finally met his match. 

Once you pulled out of the stall, you rolled down your window and took in a deep breath—not sure if you were making the right decision as the words fell off your tongue; but it didn’t matter anymore. 

“Meet me tomorrow in the library at three. Don’t be late or you can forget about having me as a tutor. Oh, and I don’t hate you. But don’t think so highly of yourself, I don’t think all that highly of you either.” 

The soft smile that was now beaming on his face pulled on your heartstrings and soon you felt a warm sensation in your chest—wait. What? Oh God—no. No, no, no. What have you done? 

You just sold your soul to the devil.

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode nineteen: Kyoya's sense of self!

Tw: assault, self harm, self hate

“Thanks for waiting for me, Kyoya.” Tamaki looked so tired, toying with his own hair nervously. He kept glancing down the hallway, clearly upset at having been yelled at. Kyoya couldn’t blame him, he hated being yelled at as well. Unfortunately Kyoya couldn’t comfort him as he wasn’t supposed to be aware, so he gave a soft half-smile and stepped forward.

“How did it go? Who was it?”

At that, Tamaki promptly burst into tears, clinging to Kyoya tightly, “she kissed me! She kissed me and then Haruhi yelled at me and- and…” he just started to wail at that point, clinging to Kyoya even tighter. Kyoya hated emotions and he had absolutely no idea how to deal with this, especially when the other hosts came out to see what all the noise was about.

“It’s alright, maybe she’s not really angry at you?” Kyoya remembered that when he was tiny and people still cared about him, how his older siblings would just pick him up whenever he was upset, not much else, just lift him up. Sadly, Kyoya wasn’t strong enough to pick Tamaki up, he was struggling to even hold him up as Tamaki cried.

The hosts helped Tamaki into the room, the twins asked what happened but Kyoya ignored them, cradling Tamaki to the best of his ability. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Tamaki…” to anyone hearing, he was whispering condolences to his friend, but for Kyoya, the statement was so much more. Kyoya felt incredibly guilty, that's why plan b had been a last resort, Kyoya hadn’t wanted to hurt Tamaki this much. He’d made Tamaki cry and he felt absolutely horrid and filthy about it.

After a while, Haruhi returned to the club room, looking furious. She sat down, clearly seething. The hosts swarmed her, asking what had happened, why was Tamaki crying? Haruhi told them that Sieka had kissed Tamaki, and that she had told Haruhi that he’d willingly gone to meet her. Tamaki couldn’t deny this, but honestly he wasn’t even trying, he was too busy crying. The hosts were clearly torn on who’s side to take, as Haruhi had clearly been wronged but Tamaki had clearly also been wronged, and he was the one crying about it.

“The letter wasn’t signed, he only went because he wanted to know who it was and why they’d write that kind of letter when the entire school is fully aware that he’s with you.” Kyoya glared daggers at her, knowing that it was a risky move, but he genuinely didn't care at this point, how dare she yell at Tamaki, "you're being selfish to think you were the only one hurt by that happening, look at him. Take a good look at that man and tell me you're angry at him, go ahead, we all know you don't love him so you have no right to scream at him for being assaulted!"

He'd stood up at that point, towering over Haruhi, who looked shocked and even guilty. The other hosts were shocked, but there were murmurs of agreement, then Honey spoke up, "Kyo-chan has a point… it really wasn't Tama-chan's fault."

Haruhi sighed, and took a step backwards, hand over her face, "god… I know, I know, I'm sor-"

"If you knew, then why would you scream at him?" Kyoya crossed his arms, moving his head slightly so the light stopped hiding his eyes and the other hosts could see the tears in his own eyes, "I'm getting to the end of my tether with you, Haruhi, if you hurt my friend again I swear-"

"Kyo-chan, calm down."

Kyoya tensed up, glancing back at him, then to Tamaki, the tears freeing themselves and spilling down his cheeks. He huffed and stormed out of the room, not wanting the others to see him cry. Once again his own guilt consumed him, he wondered if he was even allowed to feel guilty, wasn't he too evil for that at this point? He just went to sit in the library, cursing himself for leaving his laptop in the clubroom. He took out his notebook and a pen, entering a quick entry.

12:30 -I snapped at Haruhi, she’s angry at Tamaki, tamaki hasn’t done anything wrong. Sieka kissed him, it wasn’t like he wanted it. Although I suppose she’s supposed to get angry.

Kyoya wasn’t a fan of sketching with pen, but he didn’t have any pencils on hand. So he really had no choice, he didn’t even know what he was drawing, all he knew was that there were no construction lines in said drawing. It seemed to be a figure, surrounded by others, all eyes on the centre, a devil, an evil entity with no care for the pain behind him. Was this how Kyoya saw himself? Or was this just a thoughtless doodle? Even Kyoya didn't know.

Back in class, Tamaki quietly informed Kyoya that Haruhi wouldn't be joining them for the sleepover, or any of the after-session meetings for the week. Kyoya was fine with this, but expressed guilt for having snapped at her the way he did, glancing away from Tamaki as he did so. Tamaki seemed upset by this, putting a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder, "Kyoya… it's ok, I understand you're angry at her, you have every right to be. In fact, I'm happy that you're looking out for me, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He couldn't get those words out of his mind, what would Tamaki do without him… oh that was wonderful, to think Tamaki needed him, to think Tamaki appreciated him… it made Kyoya's heart swell. He simply adored the idea of Tamaki needing him, of course Tamaki needed him; who else was going to protect him from Haruhi? At first, Kyoya had thought he was the villain, he was willing to be the villain and just go full throttle into it… but as things progressed, he began to think that the villain was actually Haruhi. She didn't love Tamaki, she yelled at him, she was willing to brag about not loving him… she was so cruel, poor Tamaki didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

It was ok though, Kyoya would protect him. Kyoya wasn't willing to let his darling best friend get hurt, crush or no crush. The fact that Tamaki recognised and approved of Kyoya's defence of him, it made Kyoya so very very happy. He carried his newfound pride really well, standing up a little straighter and carrying himself better. The difference was visible but no one asked about it, probably because they were too scared. It had been a while since Kyoya seemed so together.

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, with nothing going wrong. Kyoya was quite happy, although the other hosts seemed a little hung up about the day's events. Whilst hosting, Haruhi kept glancing towards Tamaki, but Tamaki didn't even glance back at her, and that was the best feeling for Kyoya, he was finally getting his way. Haruhi was finally getting what she deserved, she should never have hurt Tamaki like that. It was her own fault.

By the end of the day, Tamaki was still being loud and excitable, but there was an underlying level of pain there. Kyoya did his best to keep Tamaki's mind away from Haruhi, even going so far as to suggest that Tamaki come over to his place for a little while. Obviously Tamaki was excited at the idea, and they were very quickly sitting in the limo, with Tamaki babbling on about all the fun things they could do once they got there. Kyoya didn't say much, just stared at him from behind his glasses, enjoying the sound of Tamaki's voice.

He couldn't help but to wonder how it was for Sieka, how did it feel to kiss Tamaki? Kyoya knew Tamaki wore lipgloss, he couldn't remember what flavour Tamaki had said it was though, so he wasn't sure how it would taste but he knew it would be good. Tamaki hadn't wanted to kiss Sieka, so he likely didn't cooperate with her, but Kyoya couldn't help but imagine how amazing a kiss that was precipitated would be, the way Tamaki moved would be felt through every breath, life and love flourishing on his tongue as the world melted away… just the idea was enough to drive Kyoya mad.

That evening was wonderful, they listened to music and did homework together. Kyoya found it easier to bring himself to do things when Tamaki was there, he wasn't sure if it was the aura of energy or the pressure to look good in front of his crush. The reason didn't really matter, but the main point was that Kyoya was enjoying spending some time with Tamaki. After around two hours, or maybe an hour and a half, Tamaki spoke up with something that caught Kyoya off guard.

"Have you been hurting yourself lately?"

Oh, Kyoya hadn't been expecting that. He suddenly felt unsure, had he? He struggled to recall, the entirety of last week had been a blur for him really, so he wasn't sure what was what. “Well my bodyguards took my razors so…” that was before getting grounded wasn’t it? For some reason Kyoya knew he remembered sitting on the bathroom floor at some point that week and- “the scissors,” his words took the both of them off-guard, Tamaki glanced up from where he had been gazing at the cup of tea in his hands.

“What?”

“I took the twins' fabric shears... “ Kyoya paused for a moment, realising that his victory of memory was not going to be as much of a victory in Tamaki’s eyes, and that he’d just confessed to more self harm. “I…” the weight of what he’d just told the blonde dawned on him and he remembered how he’d promised to never let Tamaki see him like that again, “I’m sorry…”

He hadn’t been expecting to be sweeped up in a big hug and given small kisses on the top of his head, Tamaki had shouted something in french and continued to murmur french words to him softly as Kyoya just sat there in his arms. It was wonderful and though Kyoya was shaking he still felt tingles on his skin every time it brushed against Tamaki’s own. Only when the air was still and Kyoya had stopped crying- he had been crying? Only when there was silence did Tamaki speak words that Kyoya understood, pressing their foreheads together, “never apologize for that, ok? It wasn’t me you hurt, I’m just upset because I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. The person you’re hurting is yourself, but I think that person doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. You're hurting my best friend, Kyoya, can you promise me you’ll stop hurting my best friend? I know you’re in pain, I know that’s why you caused more, and I’m trying to help you, okay? But I can’t help if you don’t let me, please tell me if there's something I can do to make you feel better, is there?”

Kyoya didn’t want to move, making the barest little nod possible, but Tamaki understood and smiled. He didn’t want to speak as he spoke, hearing his voice and how pained and weak he sounded, it was awful… “can you stay with me tonight..? I don't want to be alone…"

Surprisingly, Tamaki agreed, and he even set up a blanket and pillow fort for them to sit in. Kyoya could be distracted from his all consuming guilt for a moment or two when Tamaki pulled him in close and wrapped a blanket around the both of them, he was so warm… it was hard to think in a situation like that. With every slow breath and chuckle that made Tamaki's chest shift just a little, with every little blue or gold sparkle in his violet eyes that seemed like the stars in the sky, with every little hum that left his lips and floated in the air giving off warmth, Kyoya fell just a little more in love.

Love was a funny thing; Kyoya had always thought it was stupid, just a chemical reaction, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he was actually a very romantic person. There was nothing Kyoya wanted more than to simply be help by someone who saw him, someone who understood who he was and who he wanted to be. That was what made this so much worse, the fact that Kyoya was now a horrible person made him scared for Tamaki to see him for what he was. He would never be seen, he could never be loved… not like this.

The thing that brought Kyoya hope, however, was the fact that Tamaki had always been one to look through a person, to see the person they wanted to be. He'd always encouraged Kyoya to be the person Kyoya had always dreamed to be, but now that dream was unclear; constantly shifting and changing, Kyoya didn’t know who he wanted to be anymore, it was so strained and fuzzy for him. The idea of the true self was slipping from his grasp as he made each step towards what he wanted, narrowly avoiding his doom at the hands of his own psyche. It was beginning to grow too much for even him to handle, but he didn’t trust himself to even try to do anything about it, what if he hurt people more?

A song, a lullaby in a tongue too foreign for Kyoya to understand, but familiar enough for him to name it. Tamaki ran his fingers through the villain’s hair, grounding Kyoya as he let the words wrap like a blanket. He was singing softly, Kyoya couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard tamaki sing- had he ever? The sound was wonderful, something to make him relax. Kyoya was a beast in that moment, an animal, he didn't trust himself to speak nor move, only laying, shivering in the blonde’s arms. Kyoya thought back to how he’d hurt everything, the people he’d cared for. He silently prayed for forgiveness, not to any god- Kyoya wasn’t a man of faith, but he had faith in his friends, he hoped when the truth came undone, they’d see through his actions to see who he was inside.

He made a promise, to them and to himself; there would be no pain caused nor received all week, they all deserved a reprieve. Kyoya knew he had a large amount of control over the pain his friends were experiencing, but as he caught a glimpse of the sadness in Tamaki’s eyes, he prayed Haruhi would allow them all to rest.

[nalgenewhore]

With My Life - Chapter Two

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings:  (all graphic) violence, gun violence, blood, smut, implied PTSD

Elide slept fitfully for a couple hours more after Lorcan left. After ten minutes of hiding from the sun by burying her face in his pillow and switching positions every thirty seconds, Elide decided to accept the fact that she wouldn’t fall back to sleep and there was nothing she could do about it. 

With a sigh, Elide got up and padded over to his closet, swapping his black dress shirt for a pair of sweats that practically drowned her and one of his old hoodies. She walked over to the dresser he kept, opened the top drawer that she had slowly begun to take over and grabbed her tortoise shell hair clamp to twist her short but thick hair and clip it back. 

Then, she walked out of his room, out the short hallway before she got to the top of the stairs, which were located beside the windows that went from the floor to the ceiling of his second floor. Elide stepped down the stairs, her hand resting elegantly on the railing. 

Elide sighed again and rubbed her eyes as she walked into his pristine, state of the art kitchen. 

She looked out the wall of floor to ceiling windows, wondering where in the city Lorcan’s clients would take him today as she filled up the kettle in the sink. 

After putting it on the stove and turning the burner on, Elide picked up the remote control and turned on the big, sleek flatscreen. A voice in the back of her mind reminded her the revisions for her thesis weren’t done yet. Elide scowled as she flipped through the channels and landed on a rerun of a baking show. 

Reasoning with herself, she decided to take the day off. Between the extra class load undergrad psych courses she’d agreed to teach and research for her graduate degree, as well as spending more and more time with Lorcan… she deserved a break. 

Taking the day off would give her time to think about them. And about dinner. 

Elide thought about their relationship as she fixed herself a cup of tea. Being with Lorcan was simple. Not at all serious, just some harmless fun, but still, quite possibly her most valued relationship nonetheless. 

There were times, so many gods-damned times when she wanted more. And thought that he felt that way, too. 

Like when their intimate activities were done for the night, when they both passed out where they dropped onto the sheets, Lorcan would search the king-sized mattress until he could pull her close against him. In all the nights she had spent with him, Elide had not once fallen asleep without his arms around her. Or when he had had a hard day, he would call her in the middle of the night - when he knew she was still up working tirelessly on her degree - just to hear her talk and ramble about whatever she’d learned that day. 

He listened to her like… he loved her, like she loved him. 

He trusted her with his life and he wanted to talk to her. What else could he have to say, right? 

Elide had a distinct feeling that everything as they knew it would change today.

+*+*+*+*+*+* 

Get in. 

Get the list. 

Get out. 

Lorcan repeated it like a mantra as he moved through the seemingly abandoned building like a shadow. He breathed calmly, keeping his nerves in check. It’s just another work day, keeping it together, he told himself, schooling himself into detached neutrality as he continued through the house. 

Methodically, he checked every room he passed, toeing the door open and stepping in, smoothly pointing his gun and checking every inch of space before moving on. 

He listened intently, his ears nearly twitching with every sound besides his own breathing and steady steps. 

The radio in his ear crackled to life, “Upstairs, second door on the right.” Connall and the team at headquarters had been tracking the computer - the one that held Erawan’s list of suppliers and dealers - for months and it would finally come to an end today. 

The house around him remained eerily quiet, but Lorcan shook it off as his own tension as he moved up the stairs, studying them briefly and avoiding places he knew would creak too loudly. 

Like the good spy, like the good little soldier he was years ago, Lorcan checked the first rooms first, then the one opposite the room the computer was in. Nobody was there. 

And just when he was thinking the gods hadn’t forsaken him again, Lorcan walked into the second room on the right and bit back his low curse. It was stupid, juvenile and foolish to think that the gods had ever cared, for the man sitting behind the very laptop countless people had died for had a bullet wound in the middle of his forehead and the wall behind him was splattered with blood and the laptop had been torn apart. 

“C?” 

“L?” 

“They got it. Laptop’s ripped open and,” he walked in further, swallowing his gag at the reek of blood, “they shot their guy. Been here… half an hour, at most.” Which meant someone was following him. 

There was a pause and Lorcan heard Connall take a breath to speak but then, “Wait. Shh.” 

Connall didn’t fight it, didn’t speak another word as Lorcan listened, narrowing his eyes and slowly putting his gun back in his shoulder holster. He could’ve sworn he’d heard something coming from… the hallway. 

Lorcan gave the room one last glance and stepped out into the hallway, just in time to see a black clad figure sprint down the hall and jump, crashing through the window and onto the streets below them. 

“What was that?” Connall asked, evidently having heard the glass smashing. 

“The list,” Lorcan bit out, already moving when Connall told him Nehemia was tracking the hard drive. “I’m in pursuit.” 

Lorcan ran to the end of the hall, stopping himself from crashing through the pane and searching the rooftops. Two buildings away, there was that same shrouded figure hopping along the buildings of Morath, glancing back at Lorcan every so often. 

“Tell Elide I’ll be late.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Her plan for a day off hadn’t worked. Elide had tried to relax, as Lorcan told her to constantly. She snorted to herself as she highlighted a passage and switched to a blue pen, scrawling a note on the margin. It was rich coming from Lorcan. The man could barely sit still for a half hour show without fiddling with something, dropping into push-ups or another exercise. 

There were a couple trays of cranberry-orange muffins sitting idly by, ones Elide had made after getting a craving from the baking shows. She plucked one up, mindlessly picking at it and thinking to herself. 

Her thesis advisor and mentor, a man named Weylan Darrow, sent her an email about her next review panel and she clicked on it, reading through his notes. He was a crotchety old man, that is, to everyone except Elide. He had developed a bit of a soft spot for her over the past couple years. 

He had been a huge help - a godsend, really, during the years. Being a former foster child herself, writing on how the system affected cognitive development was a personal and delicate subject for her, but Darrow, as he preferred to be called, had always respected boundaries and pushed her to take time off when she needed it. 

Elide zoned out and absentmindedly munched on her muffin, only realizing she’d been sitting at the kitchen island, staring off into space for a couple minutes when the buzzer sounded. 

She got up and padded over to it, furrowing her brow as she tried to recall which button it was to talk. The largest was lit up and flashing green, so she took a chance and held it down as she said, “Hello?” 

“Miss Lochan?” 

“Yes?” 

“Mr. Salvaterre had a package delivered for you. Would you like me to bring it up?” 

Elide shook her head, forgetting for a second that they couldn’t see her. “Oh, no, Malakai, I’ll be down soon.” 

“Alright, Miss Lochan. See you soon.” 

Elide walked back to the counter and put ten or so muffins into a container for Malakai and his husband before she slipped on her shoes and went downstairs, wondering what on earth Lorcan had sent her. 

One of his neighbours was in the elevator with her and they chatted idly. The older woman was a sweetheart and Elide gave her a muffin from the container, graciously thanking her for the invitation to have tea later that day. 

Elide bid the woman good-bye and smiled at Malakai, handing him the container, “Fresh from the oven.” 

He smiled and put the container under the front desk, coming back up with a sleek, black and silver edged dress box, tied together with a matching silver ribbon. “For you and,” he pulled up a matching black and silver bag with silver ribbon handles, “for you. There’s a note in there, too.” 

She smiled, trying to control her blush as she fit the bag’s handles in her elbow and picked up the box, ignoring Malakai’s cheeky wink. “Oh, stop it.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

Elide just rolled her eyes and went back upstairs, making herself wait until she returned to the penthouse to open it. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Marama, do you have eyes on Salvaterre?”  

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Lorcan hardly heard the words flying over the radio in his ear as he dodged a cheap punch, ramming his elbow up into the masked figure’s face, hearing the telltale crunch of the man’s nose and using the advantage of the man’s head snapping back to lock him in a chokehold and put pressure on his windpipe. “Where is it?” 

The man spoke an ancient, dirty language - one of the man legends say tried to rip the world in two. Lorcan snarled in his ear, gripping the top of his mask, “Tell me where it is or I swear to Hellas, I’ll throw you off this gods-damned bridge. Tell me where it is.” 

The man fought for breath and Lorcan let him struggle before loosening his hold, letting the man believe he had the advantage. “You will never find it.” 

“I need two more minutes,” Nehemia said, her voice tinged in desperation. 

During the chase across the city to the decrepit bridge they stood on now, the man had dropped the hard drive, the small black square escaping Lorcan’s attention. Nehemia had managed to track it somehow, probably from the original tracker they had planted in the computer, and was deciphering its security features. 

Lorcan ripped the mask from the man, turning him and leaning him over the railing, “Tell me where it is.” 

Erawan’s man’s pupils were dilated, leaving only a thin circle of watery blue around the depthless black. Most of the fanatic’s forces took a drug hybrid Erawan and his team had crafted themselves and flooded the streets of every major international city with, a drug called Wyrd. It made one feel invincible, making them believe they could withstand any physical act like torture and harm. 

Really, it just severed the pain receptor connection and the majority of users ended up near dead in the hospitals. 

“You cannot stop the prophecy. He will reign supreme,” the man promised, choking slightly as the blood from his broken nose slid down his throat. 

Lorcan fought the urge to roll his eyes and gripped the man’s collar, twisting the material until he could barely get a breath in, “I will break your neck, tell me where it is.” 

The man clamped his jaw shut, biting down so hard and fast that Lorcan saw a cracked tooth when the man attempted to spit on him and instead, drooled down his weak chin. “You… you…will never… know.”

“Are you in position,” that hissing viper voice snapped, not one part of the sentence in question. 

“Yes, ma’am. Three buildings southwest, clear view of Salvaterre and target.” 

Lorcan was distracted for a split second by listening to Fenrys’ location, and the man grabbed at the chance, ramming his knee up between Lorcan’s legs and pushing him off. 

That quickly, Lorcan was incapacitated by the pain in his body, hardly fighting the target as he stomped on his knee, forcing it to bend in a way no knee should. He swallowed his scream of pain, his head whipping to the side when he was punched in the face, already tasting blood in his mouth and spitting it onto the ground before fighting back. 

The man was relentless, with zero regard for his own protection as he rained blows down on Lorcan, lashing out with his feet and knees. 

Lorcan snarled and easily sidestepped the next punch, returning one of his own to the throat and one to his solar plexus. The man stumbled back, blood and saliva leaking down his face and fighting for breath. 

Panting, the man attempted to strike, a hard jab to the stomach that had Lorcan bending reflexively and giving the man just enough time to slip away and sprint towards the city.  

Lorcan groaned in pain, rasping to the earpiece, “He’s running.” 

“I got him,” Fenrys said and Lorcan started running, pushing his agony down down down. “I got him.” 

The man’s multitude of injuries started to heed his escape as Lorcan used every lesson drilled into him to keep his mind off the white hot pain in his left knee and tackled him to the ground, quickly pressing his knees into the man’s elbows and using his weight to keep him down. “Where the fuck did you put it?” 

The man pressed his lips together, pure rage and unadulterated fury in his eyes. Somehow, he slipped his arm free and slashed, slicing the knife Lorcan didn’t know he had down Lorcan’s right cheekbone. Then, the target flipped them as Lorcan felt warm blood leak down his face and pressed the tip of his knife into Lorcan’s throat. “I will never tell you. The prophecy must come true, our king will be crowned at last.” 

“What’s the hold up,” Maeve snarled, wondering why he hadn’t shot yet. 

Lorcan remained as still as possible, the cool metal edge of the blade cutting into his skin. He felt warm blood drip and pool in the hollow of his throat as Fenrys said he couldn’t get a clear shot. 

“Take the fucking shot,” Maeve ordered and the target was distracted by something. 

That quick, Lorcan shoved him off, flipping them just as he heard the distinct sound of a bullet being shot through the radio and nearly instantaneously, searing pain ripped through his left side, forcing him to take a step back. 

He bumped into something cold and metal, pausing as he slowly looked down and lifted his fingers to the hole in his black tactical shirt. They came away red and as if life was in slow motion, he looked up at the target, whose own eyes were widening. Swallowing thickly, Lorcan whispered, “Agent down.” 

Then, he stumbled back another step and hit the railing, tipping over it and falling to the river. 

The wind whipped at his body and he was so tired, he was in so much pain. 

Eventually, he hit the water below with a resounding boom, the spray nearly touching the bridge he’d fallen from. As he grasped to the tendrils of life as the current swept him under, he felt someone cup his face and opened his eyes. 

Elide floated above him, a gentle, peaceful sort of smile playing at her round lips. She didn’t say a thing and Lorcan tried, tried to tell her the words that had been locked away inside his ancient, wicked heart for an eternity, but there was too much water, down his throat, down his nose, in his eyes. 

Elide Lochan, I love you.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

It was a quarter to eight and Elide looked at herself in the mirror, appraising the vision. She could almost imagine how Lorcan would react. 

First, his eyes would catch on her face and he’d smile - he always did and he never noticed. 

Then, in afterthought, he would flick his gaze over her body and pause, his lips parting in a soft gasp as he drank in the sight of her curves. He would sear her skin with his stare as he looked at the way the black silk of the dress he’d bought her slid over her body, delicate diamond decorated straps that attached the cowl neckline to the low-cut back and left her creamy skin on almost full display.

Lorcan would walk up slowly, looking up and down her figure and then ruin the moment by doing something juvenile like grabbing her ass or saying something crass that had her laughing even though she would deny it until she was blue in the face. 

Elide reached over for her earrings, single drop diamonds that had once belonged to her mother. She cast a harsh glance over her makeup, her cheeks heating at the deep maroon lip. Lorcan had a little bit of a thing for coloured lipsticks and liked to have her leave marks over his body, smeared against his across his skin.

She heard a knock on the door and her stomach clenched in anticipation. Elide breathed out slowly as she walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, one hand holding her swishy skirt and biting back her smile as she waltzed across the front hall and put her hand on the cool silver handle. 

With one last calming sigh, she opened the door, not at all prepared to see Rowan and Connall standing on the doorstep, wearing somber faces. “Oh, hi. Lorcan’s not here right now, he’s still at work, I think. We’re going out.” 

They looked at each other with unease and Connall stepped forward, the moon to his brother’s sun wearing a broken expression. “Ellie…” 

She curled her shaking hands into fists, determined to not let them see her breakdown over nothing. Lorcan probably had to work late, she understood. They could reschedule. 

“Ellie, Lorcan’s not… he’s not…” Connall’s voice died off and he looked in desperation at Rowan, who looked seconds from tears. 

Her voice was dry and cracked when she dared whisper a question for which she dreaded the answer,

“Where is he?”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

oh he fucking dead doe - that’s where he is 😳 anyways, i just wanted to let everyone know that i will not be posting as often as i did with previous wips - frankly, i can’t keep it up, i’ve been writing pretty much nonstop since april and im a lil tired. there are other contributing factors (ie, i have thirty chapters planned out + an extra scene and im writing it serially which i don’t usually do) but yeah, that’s what’s up! i am hoping to post twice a week on sundays and wednesdays (8pm pacific time babey) and that may drop to once but whatcha gonna do 

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @ttakeitbacknoww @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @amren-courtofdreams @minaidss​ @superspiritfestival @lovemollywho @queen-of-glass @jlinez @sleeping-and-books @ireallyshouldsleeprn @verypaleninja

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 5

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Emily surprises JJ at her soccer game.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr: Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Emily walked out of her Philosophy class, waving goodbye to Spencer Reid, who had back-to-back classes that afternoon. He walked away, dodging the crowds of students milling about on his way to his Physics class.

Things had calmed down in the weeks after midterm season, giving Emily a bit more free time to relax into a rhythm during her second year at college.

In her bag was a small bag of cookies that she had baked last night, wrapped up in carefully and tucked away. She was making her way through the quad, setting her sights on the soccer field. Emily checked her phone for the time: it was 2:25 PM and JJ’s soccer game should be almost done. She knew she was going to miss most of the game, but if she hurried she would catch the tail end.

That morning, Emily had looked up the games time on the varsity sports website, and triple checked that she’d be able to make it.

Dodging an enthusiastic skateboarder who was using the ramp down to the field as his own personal skate park, Emily hurried towards the bleachers, climbing onto the second row near the away team’s goal.

Emily squinted towards the field, setting down onto the ice cold metal bleacher seat and regretting her choice of a plaid skirt and fishnet stockings. A familiar blonde ponytail caught her eye and her heart jumped at the sight of her tackling another girl, freeing the ball and turning Emily’s way, barrelling down the field.

She had the ball! JJ pulled ahead, dodging the advances of the other team before kicking it to her teammate, who confidently circled around past the defence.

Emily’s heart was in her throat. She had never particularly cared about sports, but with her time in Italy, football (or soccer as she reminded herself to refer to it as) was something Emily could confidently say she understood enough to have a conversation about. She thanked her lucky stars that the first jock Emily had a crush on played a sport she at least knew the rules of.

JJ ran into centre field, and her teammate passed the ball to her, JJ kicked it right into the net, sneaking right past the goalie’s outstretched fingertips.

Goal!

The crowd cheered, Emily joined in and clapped as JJ’s teammates swarmed her, jumping and hugging her in a mess of celebratory bodies.

Emily looked around, while the crowd was spotty, there was still a fairly good turn out. Most of them seemed to be family members, though there were certainly groups of students, wearing their school colours and the logo emblazoned across their chests.

Emily peered at the scoreboard, it was 4–2, as JJ just scored a tie breaking goal with ten minutes left in the second half. They reset, and JJ switched out with another, taller girl who high fived her as she walked onto the pitch.

JJ sat on the bench with elbows on her knees and her feet planted firmly on the ground in her running shoes. She gulped some water as her eyes remained fixed on the action as the ref blew the whistle, and the game continued.

Without JJ to watch, Emily’s eyes roamed across the field, taking in the action without that much interest. She hoped that their team won, obviously, because that would make JJ happy, but she had no personal investment into their college’s athletic standing.

Emily knew that while her class had cut into most of the game, she would be able to linger around and hopefully walk back to residence with JJ. She had cookies to give her.

Now, the cookies were just an excuse to hang out with her. Or a bribe. Probably a bribe. Well, JJ had said, back when they studied together almost two weeks ago, that she wanted more cookies. As she had enough free time to walk to the nearby grocery store to pick up the dough, Emily was furiously trying to bake the best cookies she’d ever made. She had briefly considered making them from scratch, but the pressure of it all made her choose the prepackaged dough.

Emily actually didn’t spend more time eating the dough than baking, this time, because she wanted them to be perfect for JJ.

She had been tempted to invite her to bake with her, but despite JJ’s initial request for Emily to tutor her, JJ had not really followed up. In fact, Emily hadn’t seen much of the girl at all. The anxious part of her brain told her that JJ was avoiding her, but Emily, for the life of her, could not figure out why. Every time that she ran into JJ, the blonde seemed anxious to leave.

The clock counted down, five, four, three, two, one. The buzzer sounded. The other team hadn’t managed to score another goal, so their team had won!

The crowd cheered in delight at the victory. JJ and her team jumped together, piling on top of one another in a group hug.

While the other audience members packed up their bags and blankets, chatting as they filed out of the bleachers, Emily remained, waiting for JJ.

She watched as JJ removed her cleats, shin pads and long socks, swapping them instead for a pair of boots. She zipped up her windbreaker on top of her shirt and followed her teammates as they grabbed their bags and made their move to go home.

It was now or never.

“JJ, hi!” Emily called out, waving at her from the side of the bleachers.

JJ caught her eye, then said something to her teammates, who waited for her on the edge of the field.

“Great game!” Emily said, “at least what I saw of it.”

“Emily!” JJ said, smiling at her.

“I, uh-” Emily rifled through her bag. “The cookies you liked. I made some last night and thought that you may want some.”

JJ’s eyes widened as she took them.

“Thank you, Emily,” she stated, smiling quickly. “That’s very nice of you, I hope you didn’t go out of your way for me.”

“Oh it was no problem,” Emily said, trying to keep her voice calm, “Derek practically begs me to and well, you know, it’s nice to do something relaxing during midterms.”

JJ nodded, then turned to look at her teammates, who were beckoning for her.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” Emily said, “Did you need any more help with your French?”

Something strange passed across JJ’s face, first she looked happy, excited, but then nervous she looked away from Emily.  

JJ hadn’t texted her. Emily had given her number to her last Wednesday, and had received radio silence ever since.

“Uh, maybe. I’ll text you if I need any help,” JJ said, “I’m actually having a bit of trouble writing a presentation.”

A spark of hope ignited in Emily’s chest. Just as she was going to reply, she heard someone approaching them from the bleachers, clamouring down the steps from behind.

“JJ!” Penelope Penelope exclaimed, “And Emily! I didn’t know you were here! You could have sat with me!”

She was dressed in a long purple peacoat and had her bright blonde hair tied up in space buns. She had a small blanket folded up in her arms that she was likely using to sit on the cold bleachers.

“I didn’t see you,” Emily says honestly.

“Hey Pen,” JJ said, turning to her roommate, “No Spence today?”

“He has physics,” Penelope and Emily responded in unison, before laughing.

“We just had Philosophy together,” Emily explained. “He had to run to his next class.”

“Wait that reminds me,” Penelope exclaims, “Emily you must come with us to trivia tonight! We need six people for our team and I don’t wanna get stuck with some randos like last time.”

Emily looked over at JJ quickly to gauge her reaction. Trivia sounded really fun, and the excuse for spending time with JJ sounded even better.

“You could bring your friend Derek,” JJ replied, not balking at the idea of Emily’s presence. “Spence hasn’t stopped talking about him since the party.”

Emily felt herself breathe an internal sigh of relief. JJ wasn’t avoiding her after all. And maybe even wanted to spend time with her.

“Oh he really is a beautiful sight, that Derek Morgan,” Penelope just about purrs in response.

Emily can not help but laugh.

“That makes, what, five?” Penelope counted on her fingers, “Jennifer, do we have another friend?”

JJ frowned, shook her head, which made Penelope laugh.

Emily thought for a second, thinking about who in her circle would enjoy trivia. Aaron. Of course.

“I think I could talk someone into it,” she said.

“It’s a date!” Penelope exclaimed. “Now off to the locker room with you Jennifer! You stink!”

She gently pushed JJ towards her teammates and JJ laughed before waving goodbye and heading towards the gym. Penelope looped her arm through Emily’s and had already begun to explain the details of the trivia night.

From what Emily gathered, it was at the bar right off campus, and luckily for them, allows underage students in on Monday nights to play trivia, and the bartenders didn’t really check IDs at the bar so they could usually get served if they didn’t get too wild. There were prizes and Penelope was convinced that with Reid, they had a good shot at winning, depending on the topics of course.

Emily and Penelope walked back to their building, finally exchanging numbers and the promise to meet in the hall no later than seven that night.

As soon as Emily was in her room she found herself grinning. She did a small dance in her room in excitement for the evening before pulling out her phone to tell Derek and Aaron that they had plans for the evening.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Opening Up with… Evanescence

Opening Up sees us talk to musicians about the opening track from each of their studio albums. Our next guest is Amy Lee, lead vocalist and founding member of goth-pop veterans Evanescence. With millions of albums sold worldwide, the band are one of the most beloved of their era – and there's still plenty left in the tank, as their latest studio album attests to.

Amy Lee’s eyes widen when she realises what the premise of today’s conversation is. “I never get asked about this sort of stuff!” she exclaims excitedly from her Nashville home, surrounded by a stuffed toy collection belonging to her seven-year-old son Jack. Lee is very drawn to the prospect of a grand opening, whether that’s in the albums that she listens to, the gigs she attends or the movies she watches.

“I have a couple of different ideas about it,” she says. “An album opener…it’s got to pull you in. There’s different ways to do that, and we’ve done a few. One way is to give it the slow build – something that is opening up a world and an atmosphere to you where you’re like, ‘Okay, this is the world I’m stepping into.’ It builds up until it gets to that first big moment of impact. The other method, which I also love, is when you don’t hesitate and just burst right into something. We do our live shows both ways, too. It’s one of those things where it just kind of depends on your mood. You want to really reflect not only on where you’re at, but where you’ve been.”

‘Going Under’ – Fallen, 2003

In another life, ‘Going Under’  would have been the world’s introduction to Evanescence. The opening track to what would go on to be one of the highest-selling albums of the decade was the favourite among Lee and co. to be its lead single. Wind-Up Records, however, opted for ‘Bring Me to Life’, and the rest, as they say, is history. That’s not to count out ‘Going Under’ by any means whatsoever – after all, as Buzz Aldrin once said, second comes right after first.

“That was the song that we really wanted,” admits Lee, reflecting on the song nearly 18 years after its release. “I love ‘Bring Me to Life’, obviously, but we had a great feeling about ‘Going Under’ being sent to radio before the album came out. When that didn’t happen, it kind of became like, ‘Okay, well at least when you hear the album, I want it to still be the first thing that you hear.’”

The song details a tumultuous relationship that Lee had in her early 20s, both in the throes of it and staring back at the ashes of its remnants. She acknowledges the song’s agency reflects both strength and vulnerability in tandem, which explains why the track has spoken to so many listeners over the years. “I think it’s really strong,” she asserts.

“It presents a place that I kind of got to later. I’m calling out for help – ‘I’m going under/I’m drowning in you’ – but it starts out with me being like, ‘You know what? I’m done with this. I’m stepping out of the situation.’ I think that attitude was something for me that I was more excited to project.”

Setlist.fm approximates that the band have played ‘Going Under’ nearly 500 times over the years, making it one of the strongest staples of their shows. It’s a classic “hold out the mic” song – Lee can defer to her makeshift choir on any given night to take up any section of lyrics with full confidence that they’ll be sung back loud and proud. “It’s a fun one to play live,” she notes. “Some songs have more staying power than others, and that song really has that for me. That’s the song that still feels really good and still fits. It doesn’t have anything about it that sort of feels like ‘Okay, that’s cool and that’s part of our history, but that’s not really what we are anymore.’ That one just really has stood the test of time.”

‘Sweet Sacrifice’ – The Open Door, 2006

The parallels between the first tracks on Evanescence’s first two records are obvious. Each cuts straight to the chase, pairing a distorted Lee vocal with a crunching, down-tuned palm-mute guitar chug before bringing in a steady full-band groove and a rousing, angsty chorus. Internally, however, the make-up of Evanescence had drastically shifted between albums, informed by the exit of the band’s co-founder in guitarist Ben Moody less than a year after the release of Fallen. This came midway through a tour, leaving the band to scramble in finding a replacement guitarist, which came in the form of Terry Balsamo (a member of the opening band, Cold). At the conclusion of the tour, Balsamo ultimately joined Evanescence full-time – a position he would hold for the next 12 years.

“That writing process was a new experience,” recollects Lee on co-writing with Balsamo for the first time. “We just had a different energy, which was really cool. We spent a lot of all-nighters in this house in LA – which was actually the first house I’d ever bought. Terry would come up and stay for a month or whatever at a time, and we would work all night.”

When queried specifically on the writing of ‘Sweet Sacrifice,’ Lee recalls a moment where she and Balsamo really clicked creatively – the song’s stirring pre-chorus, which builds to its hard-hitting hook and big-swinging drums. “The guitar and the vocal are kind of mirroring each other there,” she says. “We were really excited about it. There was just this feeling that came with it,  like, the freedom of saying ‘we’ve earned the right to make music however we want right now.’ So many people were breathing down my neck being like, ‘Let me write your songs for you.’ Writing that song was us saying ‘no, we’re gonna do whatever we want because we earned this.’”

“I felt like the song was so beautifully heavy,” she continues. “I also felt like it would subvert what people would expect as an opening track. Because I was without my guitar-playing original counterpart, there was somehow this idea that the next record [should] be softer and more feminine. I love heavy music, of course, and what was coming out of me and Terry was, in some ways, a lot heavier.”

September will mark the 15-year anniversary of The Open Door, and although it doesn’t hold the same legacy as Fallen, it remains a sentimental favourite among fans of the band. Lee still maintains a strong relationship with the record – if not for the fact that the band was able to make it at all in the first place.

“I still love it very much, it means a lot to me,” she comments. “I did have a lot to prove, and I felt the pressure of people feeling like, ‘I wonder if she can do that without Ben.’ I was really excited to show right away that we were taking it to the next level.”

‘What You Want’ – Evanescence, 2011

The first thing you hear on Evanescence’s third studio album is not Lee. Hell, it’s not even a guitar. It’s a reverb-heavy kick and snare beat, which sounds like it’s echoing from the depths of an arena. It immediately kicks the album off on a high gear, and is a perfect example of Lee’s latter example of not hesitating and bursting right in as an opener.

“That’s Will,” she determines of the song’s opening fill – courtesy of drummer Will Hunt, who made his debut on Evanescence after touring with the band for several years prior. “He is the greatest drummer in the world. That part was totally him. He is arena rock to the max, so it’s perfect. What’s cool about that is we all have different things in us that [are] our own style, each member of the band. When everybody’s particular tastes and styles get a chance to really shine through what they’re doing, I think that’s what can make it really amazing.”

“That album, it’s self-titled because it was such a group effort. Certainly it was more [of] one than before, when it was really more kind of duos for both of the other albums – Ben and I, Terry and I. This time was more like, ‘Okay, let’s let everybody really have a chance to shine.’” Lee points to ‘What You Want’ in particular when reflecting on the all-in band approach in songwriting: “I believe it was me, Terry and Tim [McCord, bassist], and we were at my house in Brooklyn,” she describes. “I had a little studio on the top floor, and just pulled up a loop on Pro Tools. Terry started playing, Tim started playing and it just became a thing with the three of us. We brought the band in, and that dinky little loop became what Will did. It really took it to another place.”

“It starts off with that awesome drum beat, but the combo to me really happens when when everything eventually comes in. It really comes together. I hear Terry in those different little half-note steps, I hear me bringing in some of my pop influences in the melody. This is us just really having fun making music and being ourselves.”

‘Overture’ – Synthesis, 2017

In one of the band’s most ambitious projects to date, Synthesis saw Evanescence team up with veteran composer David Campbell (also known as Beck’s dad) to create orchestral renditions of their best-known songs. Before it kicks off in earnest, however, the album opens with a swelling overture penned by Lee herself. It’s a rare instance of her flexing a different creative muscle in the track-ones of the band’s career, where she approaches it as an arranger and composer as opposed to a singer and songwriter.

“The whole idea of the project, for me, really stems from the fact that there’s all these little parts,” she explains. “It’s where my classical influence, which was my first really passionate musical influence, has a moment. It’s something that is an important core part of the music. ‘Never Go Back,’ which follows the overture, is one of those songs – the bridge is totally just like mad Mozart in the darkness, y’know? It’s my classical alter-ego going crazy. It’s interesting, because I think that the combination of that happening against the rock is really what makes it Evanescence. At the same time, I can still see this whole landscape of us that exists underneath and inside the music that is just entirely that other side. A lot of the time, when I’m coming up with the idea to start and then bring it to the table, it’s usually in this piano and electronics-based world before it really becomes a fully-fledged rock song. The idea of Synthesis was to get to just indulge in all of those things.”

When looking at the creation of the album’s overture, Lee sees that alter-ego taking both form and flight. “That part in particular is just one of my favourite moments on the record,” she says. “It’s very classically inspired, obviously. To make that into a full piece with David and give it that slow build, like we were talking about…I just loved being able to do that. That’s one of the ones that we’re driving you into a place and you’re like, ‘Oh, where are we going?’ And then you get there. It was very special to have at the beginning of every show on the tour. I’ll never forget that.”

‘Artifact/The Turn’ – The Bitter Truth, 2021

“Let me tell you about this, because it’s unusual.” Having eyed the conversation’s flow keenly, Lee is prepared at the ready to talk about ‘Artifact/The Turn,’ which opens The Bitter Truth, the first collection of all-new Evanescence music in a decade. As she will go on to explain in great detail, the album’s opening moment is twofold – hence the forward slash in its title. First, the artifact, which Lee found on her computer. “That’s nothing but like a little keyboard and my voice,” she confirms.

“That part is me on my laptop with the laptop built-in mic in a hotel room in Canada in the middle of the night on tour. That was not intended to make it as is on the album. The reason it’s called ‘Artifact’ is something that Nick [Raskulinecz], our producer, said. He was like, ‘Do you really want to redo this?’ I always was thinking I was going to. ‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘Don’t we need to like do it in high quality, like on a real microphone? He says, ‘I don’t know if you’re going to be able to recapture that exact feeling.’ I thought about that, and it all just kind of connected. It has all these little artifacts in it – it’s actually a little ancient piece of the the writing process, and it’s intact. It hasn’t been re-recorded or redone in any way.”

This leads to where the music makes a turn – courtesy, naturally, of ‘The Turn.’ This was another one-on-one between Lee and a collaborator, although this time, it arrives in the unexpected form of The Crystal Method’s Scott Kirkland. “We just met through a mutual friend, my old lighting director,” Lee recalls. “We were both on the bill at some festival and we made friends. It turned out we were fans of each other, and I was like, ‘Hey, if you ever want to just like swap files, who knows? We might come up with something!’ We started sending each other little baby demo ideas that we had. He had that music bed a little bit in a different arrangement that he sent to me – and again, on tour in a backroom, I found myself singing over it and came up with a melody. He tweaked it and did it for real, and that was it.”

Piecing these two compositions together made it very clear to Lee from the outset that this is how The Bitter Truth would begin – especially when she saw how it transitioned into track two, ‘Broken Pieces Shine’. “I love the way that that riff brings you into our band – where we are now and what the sound of us is now,” she says. “It’s driving, and it is coming for you – and it just feels so good when it hits. I love the beginning of this album.”

It’s been around a month since the album’s release, and although the band obviously haven’t gotten to play any shows thus far, they’ve still been met with an endless stream of messages, comments and praise from fans all over the world. After such an extensive rollout – not by design, of course – the sense of relief within the Evanescence camp is palpable. “It’s so satisfying,” adds Lee. “The one thing that’s going to drive it all the way home, obviously, is going to be when we get to live inside it and go on tour and play these songs live.”