#half apples nightmare

[shady0220uwu]

half apples confirmed!

so, after seeing as the other post did get some positive reaction to it (thank you so much for the reblog) I've decided that i will post the rest of it! i'll do so bit by bit though because their story is like.... 4 or 5 pages. yeah. so, my next post about this will be Solux and Lunabrae's colored refs. I'll polish it a little and put it up with flat colors soon cya soon <3

[chocolatemilkandregrets]

An apple for your thoughts

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Why is Dream uh...like....all this? (Gestures to all of Dream while covering eyes)

First image: 3 months old Second image: 3 years old Third image: 7 years old Eight/Ninth image: 9 years old Tenth image: 9 years old

Dying tree guardian: i need to give you two bodies, don't i…? Random people: "Oh, my grandmother is sick, can't we get some apples for her?" "Apple!" "Dream, we need more apples." "Don't be stingy, you can grow more." "My daughter is dying! I need apples to cure her!" "I need an apple for good luck!" Dream, 7: you fell out of the tree? Nightmare, 7: yeah, i'm so sorry for being clumsy. Dream, 7: ok

Prophecy Dream: i hope you've found peace. Prophecy Dream: i love you. Prophecy Nightmare: I DON'T.

Villager: oh, please take these cloaks! i made them for you and your brother, since you've had your current ones for so long! Dream, 9: oh. Villager: do you like the matching buttons? the sun represents- Dream, 9: i know what the sun represents. thank you Mrs. Henway. Villager: oh, just call me Rebecca! i know i have grandkids, but that title does make me feel quite old, dear Dream, 9: sorry Rebecca

[fluffychubbydragon]

Hey you!

Click or Treat! 🦝

[sunnydayaoe]

Verry Tired. [wanted to work on coms but. was tired >:T] so I took a walk in the woods. took some photoes n drew the guys over them :)

[likeawolfatthemoon]

i took half my meds for the day (which required me drinking some water) and got up and showered. i am the picture of mental health, unstoppable

[beholdthemem]

I live within bus distance of the Universal picket line for the writer’s strike, so I like to go down there when I can to march with em in solidarity. They are all extremely cool people, and since many of them are older than me, I have been treated to a lot of free advice on Adult Life from more experienced adults. 10/10.

It’s also extremely funny to hear them talk shit about studios/executives that they’ve had to put up with, because they’re no longer required to pretend Oh, They’re All Such Lovely People, We’re So Lucky To Work For Them.

- “Dick Wolf insists on having an a personal office at every studio where his shows are worked on. He never goes to half of them, and when he does, he’s not usually there long. It’s just supposed to be left empty for him in case he MIGHT show up.”

“I took a bunch of coffee creamers from there just before we called the strike.”

“Honestly, that sounds fair?”

“I like to think of it as payment for all the extra work I had to do for free.”

- “Never work for Netflix if you can avoid it.”

“Oh my God, RIGHT? It’s a nightmare!”

“That is the most exploited I’ve ever been, and I’ve been doing this for a while so that says a LOT.”

- “Do they ever acknowledge how many laws the cops break during a single episode of any of those SVU spinoffs?”

“We’re not even allowed to use the phrase ‘Bad apples’ because it makes them uncomfortable.”

- “Humor does not exist in the Dick Wolf-verse, so we’re only allowed to include one joke per episode. Sometimes I like to play a little game where I see if I can get away with sneaking in a second.”

“Has that ever worked?”

“I think once we got in a subtle pun.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eight

Steve slices the apple into four parts, and then retrieves the clock from the hallway; this one will be best, there’s no glass or anything, so he can just force the hands around with his fingers. Eddie sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching Steve and waiting patiently.

“Okay buddy, what time does it say?”

“Four,” Eddie says confidently. Nice and easy that one, because Steve has the little hand on the four and Eddie has grasped to look at the little hand first pretty fast.

“Okay so,” Steve puts down the clock, and holds the pieces of apple together to make it whole. “This is a full apple, yeah? One. It’s whole.”

“Whole apple.”

“Right, so now, how many?”

Steve pulls the pieces apart so he has two slices held together in each hand, “two.”

“That’s right, but It’s also half.”

“Half.”

“Yeah, whole apple. One apple. Two slices. Half an apple.”

“Half an apple.”

“Right, so,” Steve puts the apple slices down, letting them split, and moves the big hand down to six, “half four.”

Eddie moves the apple pieces around, frowning, “half four. Two,” he points.

“Yeah, with counting. On the clock. Time. This is half past four.”

Eddie frowns at the clock again. He shakes his head.

“Okay, so,” Steve spreads out the apple slices, “four. Four quarters,” then he moves the big hand around the clock face again, “quarter past four, half past four, quarter to five.”

Eddie frowns again, face scrunching a little bit, and Steve can sense the distress from Eddie, upset that he doesn’t understand.

“Half, two,” he volunteers.

Steve sighs, “yeah buddy, but-”

“No! Half two!” And then Eddie picks up two apple quarters and shoves them in his mouth, presumably to make the problem go away, crumbs of apple and juice dripping messily onto his chin as Eddie chews manically with his pointy teeth.

The kitchen dims a little, thick clouds scudding over the sun. Steve looks out of the window, it’s suddenly dark.

Red lightning flashes.

Eddie moves, leaning over the counter to slide a knife from the block, “half. Two.” He says, pressing the tip of the knife to his tail; black, thick blood wells up and starts to drip, and Steve stands frozen.

Eddie's eyes catch the light strangely, flashing silver, then they glow red as lightning crashes, “it’s for the best, Steve-”

Steve wakes with his heart pounding and a scream trapped in his throat; he feels like he can’t breathe, all of his body shaking and not obeying him, the sheets and blankets tangled around his legs. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he pants to himself, finally getting out of bed.

The light in the bathroom makes him feel better and he splashes his face and then drinks a little water right from the faucet. He sighs deep, just a dream.

Just a dream.

It takes ten minutes before Steve feels better but...even though it doesn’t make any sense at all, he needs to check. He just has to see Eddie, just for a second, to make sure he’s okay. Then he’ll come back to bed and everything will be fine.

Even though it’s completely fucking irrational, and Steve knows it is, he checks the knife block first; everything is set in it’s little slot, nothings missing...which, of course it isn’t. Of course it’s fine. He’s just being ridiculous.

The kitchen looks completely normal, even if it does feel a little sinister in the dark. Steve tells himself again that it’s just a dream.

The lounge is only illuminated by the moonlight from outside, but it’s enough to make out the curled up lump that is Eddie, sleeping on the couch.

Steve breathes a sigh of relief, even as he tells himself he’s being ridiculous.

“Stee?” It must have been enough to wake him, and Steve watches as Eddie’s head, somehow, pops out from amongst the tangled ball of tail and today's blue sweater. Steve’s let him have four and washes them on rotation. They don’t come completely clean – the grass stains are impossible, and the bottom edges are already ruinously frayed, but it’s fine, they’re only sweaters.

“Sorry, Buddy I...I had a nightmare.”

“Night...mare..?”

“Yeah a uhm,” Eddie shifts, and Steve sits next to him on the couch, “a bad dream, you know when you’re asleep?”

Eddie nods, “sleep, dark,” he points to the outside.

“Yeah, right so...do you ever see things, when you're asleep?” Eddie cocks his head, “like, uhm, TV. Like watching TV,” and Steve taps the side of his head.

Eddie takes Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away, nodding furiously, “dark TV,” he uses Steve’s hand to tap the side of his own head, “many. Many all.”

“You dream? Every night?” Eddie nods. “What do you...what do you dream about?”

Eddie frowns, so Steve gets up, retrieving colored pencils and a larger notebook, he flicks on a lamp. Steve sits back next to Eddie, and using his woefully inadequate drawing skills, he makes out a couple of withered, spiky trees, shades the sky dark, draws swirls of black on the floor and a crackle of red lightning across the sky, “do you dream of this?”

Eddie’s mouth pops open, eyes wide with terror, he taps the paper urgently, “Stee? Stee in?? Many??”

“Yeah… Stee in, but not many.”

“Stee no! Stee not safe!” Eddie taps the paper, “Stee no! Bad bad!” Eddie's clearly horrified by the thought of Steve in The Upside Down.

“I won’t buddy okay, no more,” Steve taps the page, “finished.”

That seems to placate Eddie, he sits back, staring still at what Steve’s drawn, “dark TV,” he says quietly.

Steve gets his pencil and draws a stick figure with curly hair and a long pointed tail, he draws a little arrow and writes, ‘Eddie’, next to it, “Eddidie?”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him, “we call this place The Upside Down. That’s where you come from, The Upside Down.”

“The upside Down. Stee come from?”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Hawkins Indiana.”

“Yeah Buddy, that's where we are now. That’s what this place is called. Listen,” Steve draws another stick figure with a tail near to Eddie on the paper, “are there more like you there?” Steve taps his little drawing. Then he draws another stick figure mermaid, just for good measure.

“Yes.”

“Many?”

“Many many.”

“Do you...miss them?”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Okay Buddy, you and me, we’re friends,” Eddie nods, “and the kids. Birdie. Jon, Nancy. They’re our friends.” Steve taps the page again, “friend?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no,” he purses his lips, looks around, thinking, “Stee...pear, celery, grape?”

“Yeah, I know, food. That’s food.”

“Food...no many food in Upside Down.” Eddie taps the page, then hisses, clawing and biting the air a little.

“Fight. You had to fight them for food?”

“Fight. Yes,” Eddie takes the pencil and aggressively scribbles out the other two stick figure mermaids, Steve can’t help but chuckle.

“Well, you don’t have to fight anyone here buddy. No fight. All the pears are Eddie’s.”

Steve wakes up to something tickling his nose and something else digging viciously into his ribs. He feels a little attacked considering it’s first thing in the morning. He blinks awake, shifting, and his back screams at him.

Well fuck. The couch might look fancy, and it might be alright for sitting on, but it’s shit for sleeping on.

Especially when you’ve got a bony as fuck fish guy sleeping on you, “hi Eddie.”

“Hi Stee,” Eddie replies into the front of Steve’s shirt.

“Any more bad dreams?”

“No. No bad dreams. Stee good,” and Eddie pats Steve’s chest, “Stee dream?”

“No buddy, I’m all good too. But...if you do have bad dreams, you should come find me, okay? If you want to.”

“Stee find Eddidie?”

Which, yeah, Steve guesses, that is what happened last night, “yeah Buddy, like that.”

Eddie shifts again, and Steve realizes that it’s Eddie’s bony fucking elbows that might be trying to stab him in the guts, “we should get up,” and Eddie does, sitting up with no regard for the fact that means he’s sitting right on Steve’s lap – and his morning wood.

Eddie wriggles.

“Right, nope,” Steve sits, spreading his legs so that Eddie falls through and gets dumped onto the couch cushion, letting Steve slide away and stand up, “I’m going to go shower.”

“And Eddidie?”

“Yup, but you can go after me,” Steve is telling him, as Eddie follows him up the stairs.

That night, Steve isn’t even really asleep yet when he hears the quiet noise of Eddie making his way up the stairs. The soft susurration of Eddie moving across the carpet, and then the door being pushed the rest of the way open.

Steve lifts the covers, inviting Eddie in, “but take that off, it’s got dirty today,” Eddie does, pulling off the jersey and climbing in, lying face to face with Steve.

“Hi Stee,” Eddie whispers.

Steve smiles, “hi buddy,” he whisper back, “bad dream?”

Eddie nods.

“What about? Tell me?”

“Tell...dream?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie thinks, biting his lip a little, probably trying to work out how to explain it. Eventually he volunteers, “in Upside Down.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because he figured as much.

Slowly, Eddie brings both hands up. He puts his palms on his cheeks, then covers his face with interlocked fingers. Steve has a mounting sense of horror; already certain he knows where this is going.

Slowly, Eddie lifts them, unlacing his fingers, like the spread of petals on his face.

“Demogorgon,” Steve whispers.

“Eddidie is food.”

Steve can’t really express the sheer amount of horror the thought fills him with, so he just pulls Eddie into a hug instead, “you’re safe now buddy. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Steve actually manages to fall asleep alright with Eddie’s tail wrapped around his legs, and if he dreams, he doesn’t remember it, coming awake to the now familiar sound of a chair being dragged across the kitchen floor.

Steve heads downstairs to see what Eddie’s up to; he’s at the bottom step when the smell of coffee hits him, and he vaguely wonders if Robin or someone is here.

No. Just Eddie. He’s seen Steve work the coffee machine enough times to work it out for himself, obviously, and there’s a full cup waiting ready on the counter. On the table there’s a plate with a piece of dry toast on it, but there’s a jar of jelly from the fridge. A half full bowl of cereal (no milk) and a single pear.

“Eddie...did you make me breakfast?”

Eddie grins at him, and Steve just about rescues the mug of coffee from him before Eddie tries to make it across the kitchen one handed.

“Buddy this is...so good. Thank you so much.”

Part Ten

[shady0220uwu]

Half Apples au (mini blog update.)

hiya! so, i made a new multiverse.. with gods, and i'd like to share some with y'all! but unfortunately, the lack of feedback has led me to doubt anything i post on here.. so mostivation is sorta hard. i would post more often, but i don't have the motivation to.. but i will post it. once i cleaned up the art. for now i'll just post the black and white refs. if anyone is interested, i do have Lunabrae and Solux's refs colored in, just not polished

Duxis is ink, Lunabrae nightmare and solux dream. let me know in coments or rbs if you're interested and want to see more, can also send asks asking about it, i'd be more than glad to share their story all it take is one person to make a big diference

[emmcfrxst]

Hotch thought.

reader riding him in the middle of the night because they’re both so needy

he’s got one hand on your hip and one hand lovingly cradling the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss (one that always ends up with him chasing after your lips when you pull away to breathe, a tender, playful smile on his lips) and he’s not that vocal but he does let out soft, breathy little groans from time to time— his breathing is the most telling part of him when you’re having sex because it’ll hitch or be cut in a little half gasp or he’ll exhale shakily through his nose, eyelids fluttering and lashes kissing the apples of his cheeks. he’s also the type that just needs to kiss whatever part of you is closest to him; your cheek, your temple, your nose, your shoulder, your jaw, and also your chin (for some reason he really likes kissing your chin. you asked him why once and he just said he thinks it’s cute for some reason. don’t question him. so now you also kiss his chin <3)

you do have to be quiet though (unless you’re in your apartment and not his) because hotch’s greatest fear and biggest nightmare is jack potentially hearing the two of you and asking questions. the thought makes him want to crawl into a ditch and stay there forever

[jjungxkook]

blackout (halloween drabble) | jjk

⇥ pairing: roommate!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: est rel, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: really just the tiniest hint of angst, but otherwise just crack and fluff I think, spooky szn, he's the Joker and she's Harley Quinn, lame college party, the gang is there, forest stuff, reader is a bit sad and disappointed in jk but he redeems himself!, kissing, sexy times, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, jerking off, fingering, sex in a janitor's closet haha, ass love, and yeah!!

⇥ wc: 5.4k!

⇥ author’s notes: happy early halloween! I will be busy next week, so I thought I could post this one already. also, since it's been one! damn!! year!!! since I dropped anything at all (sry!!). I promise Encore is on its way, so enjoy this in the meantime. very unedited and I started it just yesterday, so pls no hate haha okay that's it!! love you!!!

⇥ summary: Jungkook and you seek a carefree and calm Halloween this year, until it turns into this… nightmare.

–

Jungkook’s make up is smudged beyond repair… And you strongly guess you aren’t faring any better.

Your costumes are basic to their core. In the past hour alone, you’ve seen half a dozen of you. Jungkook rubs at the eyeshadow above the apple of his cheek, smearing the black some more.

He looks like the Joker at the end of his mental capacity. A worse mess than DC’s character already is. Only, Jungkook is still rocking the look – one damn kink of yours if you had a specific one. It’s the loosened tie… the purple coat–

You feel at home in your own role. Sporting the peroxide blonde hair, tied in two tails, one ending in a faded blue, and the other in a dim pink. You purchased colored hair sprays just for today, but can’t wait to wash the chemicals out of your hair.

Jungkook ruined one of the pigtails approximately an hour ago, and it hasn’t recovered since then, no matter how hard you tried to fix it. In truth, you didn’t mind the tugging at that moment anyway.

How could you? Not with the endorphins pumping through you at lightspeed, enhanced by the darkness around you at that stupid college party.

The student representatives organized this year’s big fete, though they must have forgotten to add the fun factor to it. Because the party was lame: the bar was filled with students from various departments, but most of them remained either sober or wound up broke.

Because the drinks were painfully expensive. The numbers on your bills spooked through your mind when you looked at the price, further frustrated when you realized that they weren’t selling much more than dry, small pizza and flavorless toast.

Once again, for an outrageous price.

Halfway through, the two of you snuck to a bathroom, relying on each other’s company alone. But the toilet cabinets were either taken or unspeakably disgusting – so in the rush, you settled for the pitch dark janitor’s closet instead.

You could barely see his silhouette in there, half sober, but not quite acting like it. Intoxicated by how he suckled on your neck, more a vampire than the Joker. Or by how he probably bruised your thighs, your shorts and tights down to your knees, much like his green pants.

You remember the whispers in the dark. The quiet “Wanna pound you into the mattress” and the “We should really go home.” Accompanied by the way he rubbed his cock against your stomach, body inches from you as his fingers dug into your pussy.

But you wouldn’t make it home yet, because his movements were too rapid to stop. The tears pricking your eyes too prominent. The hand around your neck wouldn’t stop pressing in, and you were firmly fixated on jerking him off to the end.

There was no way you were going to go home yet.

When he kissed you, you could taste both your lipsticks on your tongues. And then, cheek against the wall, ass out as he slammed his thick cock into your tight space, you tasted all the spice and sweetness he could offer.

God, a fucking man starved.

You still feel how his thighs held yours together, and your ass cheeks still burn from the palm and nails scratching, slapping, squeezing the flesh…

You tried your best to fix your make up afterwards, but you looked like modern art in the worst way, eyeliner and mascara dry on your face. The Joker’s cheek scars reach to his ears now. And as you look at him now, you still shiver.

His sweat-soaked mane hasn’t fully dried yet, a bit longer than weeks ago. Gives him that wet-hair look you usually enjoy after his showers. And behind the collar of his dress shirt, you still catch a glimpse of the lipstick print he wanted before you went out.

“Here,” he’d said, pointing to his thick, bare neck, adorned by a vein, “I’ll even open a button of my shirt just for this.”

And you were absolutely ready to mark your territory – it seemed he was just as enthusiastic about it. That is, before you forgot and then rectified your mistake in that bar bathroom. He can flex it now after all…

Anyway. Where were you again?

Right. The purple coat.

There’s something incredibly insane about how he’s draped it over his shoulder, both hands in the pockets of his pants. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his arms veiny and strong. A full lower lip is light red now; your make out session made the bright red fade.

And the goddamn black around his eyes… he could throw the mildest statement at you, and you’d probably still be intimidated.

Could almost distract you from why you refused to give that neck kiss in the first place. Or why you were veiling your true mood.

“What are we gonna do now?” Jungkook asks, nudging your elbow.

“What do you mean? You’re not tired?”

But you understand the idiocy of your question the moment it tumbles out – you’re asking the wrong man. This guy, you have well noticed, does not sleep until late in the night. And a healthy sleep schedule becomes even more of a foreign concept on holidays.

So you’re not surprised when he blows a raspberry and almost mockingly responds, “It’s not even midnight.”

“That’s late, Jungkook,” you still try.

“Not on Halloween.” Yeah. Just what you thought. “Besides, we need to wait for the witching hour. Wanna see the ghosts come out and whatnot.”

You laugh, the scolding hidden behind the smile. “Kook…”

“We could play Uno again!” He suggests, but you instantly scrunch up your nose. Most of the time, he wins – it’s probably why he enjoys it so much. But his next idea is worse. “Or Until Dawn.”

“No way,” you shoot. “You know what’s gonna happen, right?”

Judging the conniving smirk, more daunting with the eerie make up on, you guess he knows very well. He must remember last Halloween as well as you do.

Back when you let him convince you into watching Silent Hill with him, you were already at the edge, but – the sudden knocks at your door and impatient ringing of your bell didn’t help.

You jumped in place, accidentally kicking his shin and nearly knocking over the popcorn. You shed an immediate tear, convinced your heart was going to give out. Jungkook, between the cries of ache, was chuckling, and soon holding your head to his heart.

The cursing against his chest is cemented in your mind; you remember that he turned the movie off for you and switched to something tamer on Disney+.

“We’re together now, Pumpkin,” he tries to argue. “I’ll kiss your fears away.”

You’ll admit, you like the tone of it. It hasn’t been very long, so any term concerning your togetherness covers your skin in chills. And considering how it’s Halloween, the nickname gains just a bit more warmth, too.

But you stay resolute, dodging his constant nudging as you repeat, “No way!”

Your words stop Jungkook in his tracks. The laugh disappears and even his eyes change. Maybe you came off too strong, because behind the mask of the Joker, he looks insecure and taken aback.

“Are you… Okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer.

You pull down the crop top under your open jacket, clearing your throat when the movement forces his eyes to your chest, right where the shirt stretches over your tits. Folding your arms in front of your torso, you raise your chin in the confidence that’s barely there.

You lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You’re acting like you were before we left. Then you were okay at the party.” He points into a random direction, presumably the one you came from. You don’t know how many turns you took since then, but you’re near the woods now. “Now you’re not anymore again.”

“I’m fine!”

Oops. Too strong again. Maybe the built up frustration and disappointment aren’t gone after all. You thought the evening might change something – apparently not.

Once again, he asks, “Are you sure?”

You stay silent. Look away, haphazardly across the street. The street lamps illuminate the dark path, covered in leaves, surrounded by trees. Has a real Halloween feel to it.

You watch ghosts stroll past you. Some of the students on campus still carry a young, tender spirit, cutting holes in thin blankets to drape them over their bodies. It makes you smile.

But then you look back at Jungkook and immediately wish you had a cloth hiding your true emotions, too. Because when his eyes pierce those dejected holes into your body, you finally cave in.

“You… you know that I was top of my class, right?” You avert your stare, but then decide to focus on his chin instead. “Mr Kim liked my paper so much that he even offered that I join his research? And he’s like, very cherished in the Sociology community?”

Aside from the wind, nature and the world go quiet for a second, just when you do, but then you say, “So it’s a huge opportuni–”

“I know… You told me.”

Oh. So he remembers.

“So I told you,” your voice is quieter now, “and you just… didn’t seem to care? You haven’t spoken about it or asked even once. Not even what the research is on.”

Like a parrot, he repeats, “I know. I… I got busy with my own exams and…”

He stops midway and you wait. Maybe there’s more to come… Or maybe not. He doesn’t budge. You feel your heart drop… You assumed he had forgotten or that you might’ve hallucinated telling him about it. 

But the fact that he remembers, yet doesn’t have it in him to care hurts.

You swallow hard and then sigh, unable to say much more than you already have. He, yet again, purls, “I’m sorry.”

How shitty.

You’ve always helped him with his assignment, each time he needed any aid. He reciprocated it, no doubt, but. Now that you think about it, he distanced himself the moment you got this news and forwarded it to him.

You feel horrible. If you physically could, if you weren’t frozen in place, you’d pour out your heart to him. But all you know is that your mood has dropped to the Earth’s core, your mouth barely open when–

A rough tug pulls you away from Jungkook’s body. You stumble, almost tripping over your own feet, and yelp. There’s no way to still catch your bag mid-air, because whatever culprit snatched it off your shoulder, is already running away.

And into the dense forest. Fuck.

You use all your throat’s might to scream your lungs out, screeching at the perpetrator, “What the fuck!!”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells in kind, following right behind you the moment you start to sprint.

The asphalt is easier to tackle than the forest, though. The ground is soft, still a little damp from the rain of the last days. And the white-black-red Harley Quinn boots with their thick heels do not help.

You chase the figure – he’s tall, a bit too fast for you. Wearing a mask that you’re sure was… green?

You swear and pant when he picks up on pace, and throw more insults into his direction when he takes a sharp, sudden right. Jungkook jogs past you when you look over your shoulder for him, instructing quickly, “I’ll trap him from the left!”

And then, he’s gone. No. What?

“No, I– you can’t leave me alone!” Nothing comes back. Shit, your boyfriend wants you dead. “Fuck.”

With a shake of your head and a deep inhale of a breath, you move. Perhaps you’re too late, because by now, you don’t hear any steps anymore. You don’t know how far behind that thief left you, but as you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere, you halt.

You can’t see anyone anymore. Not the guy. Not Jungkook.

And it’s so uncannily quiet. Dark. The leaves rustle, but only when the breeze blows through them. You search the spot, but there’s truly nobody and nothing; not even a goddamn squirrel.

You call for Jungkook, but don’t receive an answer back.

Where did he go? Did he catch the jerk? It must’ve been a Shrek mask. Of all fucking things. And why do they always run into a forest anyway?

No matter. At least you’ll be able to describe him to the police.

You suck in a breath, leaning down, hands over your knees. Out of air, you groan as your lungs burn. But then you get up, swallowing and sniffling, scared as you whisper to yourself, “The phone…”

You fish it out of your shorts – Hallelujah to whoever created this costume, because they’re a whole lot better than the pocketless jeans in your closet. If you’d put the device in your bag, you’d be screwed properly.

Activating the flashlight, you turn in a slow circle. In the silence, only broken by grasshoppers and other chirping animals, you hear your heart pounding in your ears. A shaking hand holds your phone as you look around.

And right when you’re already through the 360 turn–

Fingers wrap around the hand clutching the phone, definitely not yours. There’s a call of your name, but you barely take the voice in, flinching and screaming in place. Has your voice ever sounded this high pitched?

Ready to throw your phone at him and roundhouse kick the stranger, you lift a leg, but he immediately grabs your wrist in a familiar gesture. Turns the light to his face, squinting at its intensity, and eventually, you realize that…

“What the fuck are you doing?” You spit.

“I was looking for you!” Jungkook answers, lowering the phone. “I didn’t find him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t either! But fuck, why…” You still can’t breathe properly. A hand moves to your chest. “Why did you scare me so much, I–”

Your limbs are trembling, knees attempting to force you down to the ground. But you hold yourself steady, anger growing bloody red inside you. It bubbles and simmers, and when he doesn’t respond, you almost snarl.

You push at his chest, eyes damp. You want to throw more shit at him, even though he’s not at fault – and once you realize, you calm down just a little. The forest is still around you, and you’re still not out of it by far.

Yet, you feel at ease. Because he’s here. Because he’s standing there, in the middle of the night, at fucking Halloween where you could run into any insane axe murderer.

But when you understand where the comfort is coming from, your heart slows down, still beating in your stomach, but at a more normal pace now.

“Fuck,” you whisper once again, and then stumble forward and into his arms.

He cradles you with the fragility of a glass doll. But the squeezes he provides offer warmth your chilled soul craves on this autumn night. Hushed, you hear him speak, “Baby, I…”

His words drip with hesitation and… guilt even. Wrong timing; you can’t dwell on the uncertainty now. Still sniffling, quivering, you press against his chest again. Softer this time, yet unyielding, you demand, “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No–”

“Honestly, I should’ve just… Congratulated you.”

Wrong timing indeed. He’s agonizing over something that you aren’t bothered with. Not right now, at least. But you heard it so clearly in the timbre of his voice – that he didn’t mean the jump scare. You let him continue.

“I worked so hard on my stuff, too, and then got jealous. Which is absolutely not a good boyfriend treat to have.”

“Kook–”

There’s turmoil in his words. Ugh, what’s going on?

“I’m genuinely thrilled for you. And I–”

There’s an entire conversation to have, you’re sure. But the timing. The fucking timing!

He wants to unveil more, but then something happens. A flicker in your peripheral vision alerts you of a movement, and when you turn your head, you see the same mysterious figure lurking in the shadows.

God, he’s insane. Your guts twist.

Was he eavesdropping all along, or was he simply hiding, trying to remain invisible, inexplicably unwilling to flee? Why did he not run before? This is odd. So chillingly odd.

Or maybe he was still nearby and trying not to make a sound…

You don’t know. And time is not a luxury you can’t afford for pondering such enigmas right now.

New adrenaline surges through you, different this time. The fear is clear, but the guy seems pathetic to a certain level – and if he’s so keen on roaming around, you’ll make sure he stays right in your proximity.

So you listen to the hammering of your heart, and without a second thought, you dash towards the stranger who appears equally startled and disoriented. You feel like a charging bull, closing the distance at an astonishing pace.

That’s what they probably mean when they speak about mothers being able to lift cars for their kids, because you feel invincible. Your shoes may not be designed for such a pursuit, and you’re certainly not as hardcore as Harley Quinn, but they lose against your determination.

The trees blur around you as you relentlessly chase the intruder, only clearing in your vision when you finally catch up with him. Jungkook might be behind you, but you choose not to look behind you this time.

Instead, you yell a battle cry, growling through your teeth, “Don’t you fucking–”

But that’s all before you tackle him to the ground. You expect a fight, expect his slim limbs to fling around, but he barely moves. He lets you push him onto the fallen leaves, and the only glimpse of any sound by him that you catch is a weird voice crack.

“Fu–” Is all you notice, but you can’t analyze the voice before Jungkook is helping you up again. 

You protest, but still get to your feet, watching Jungkook pull the man up harshly. He says to you, “You caught him.”

“Guess so.”

You take another breath, jaw clenched when you move to the stumbling thief and attempt to take the mask off. Shrek, as you said. You can’t quite say whether that night is terrifying or absurd. Probably both.

But the guy fights your try, suddenly mute again, but not resisting when Jungkook pulls at his arm and starts leading him somewhere. What? 

“Where are you going?” You ask, confusion sitting in the valley between your eyebrows. “Let’s go back and call the police, Jungkook.”

“There’s gotta be an opening. Keep going, I just need light to see his face.”

“I have a phone. Jungkook, sto–”

Seems like a very risky moment to ignore you, but Jungkook moves forward with determination. But it’s strange how he isn’t looking around. Never searching his surroundings, as if he already has a certain target in mind.

Now, you’ll admit that his sense of direction is unerring on any other day, too, but this is…

“I swear, you’re gonna kill us both,” you hiss, reflexively lowering your voice in the darkness. The masked mugger is grunting too much to hear you anyway, but you guess that affects Jungkook’s senses, too.

He just won’t stop. At least, until you reach a tiny clearing.

You don’t know how deep in the forest you are, because you can’t see the moon from here. The stars are the mere source of light here, albeit barely enough to illuminate the other bodies standing on the opposite side of the dimly lit space.

Wait. More people? Here?

What the hell.

Their faces, obscured by shadows, are unmoving. You ready yourself for an apology – maybe you interrupted some weird get-together. A shady ritual executed by some secret college club.

But as you strain to discern their features, a gradual realization dawns upon you. One of them steps forward, his features partially hidden, and one or two other familiar friends from your classes occupy the periphery.

It’s Jin. Also Jimin – a guy you and Jungkook met during one of your study sessions. Taehyung introduced him to your group. And the pursuit takes on an even more bewildering turn when you look at Jungkook and see that he’s no longer clutching the robber.

The man is standing there in silence, massaging the back of his head. Seemingly unperturbed. Perplexed and still out of breath, you utter, “What in the world?”

You shake your head, eyes deeply furrowed. You close the distance between you and the confusing figure, snatch your bag from him and finally shed the mask that conceals his identity.

And then, you see it. The unexpected face behind the bizarre charade.

“Taehyung?” You exclaim.

Jungkook, having caught his breath faster than you, mimics your incredulous tone, “Taehyung, what the hell?”

Oh. So he’s just as confused. The man in question glances over to his friend, his expression one of sheer frustration as he grumbles another very puzzling statement.

“Jeon, I will kill you.”

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters back.

Or… not? Huh?

You’re speechless. Out of movements and words, you keep your feet planted on your spot, blinking as you wait for someone to explain. But they’re not even looking at you, so you seek clear clarification.

“What’s going on here?” You ask.

Jungkook’s half-smile agitates you more than it should. Why the heck is he smiling?! But you breathe in through the nose, hoping for the forest’s scent to calm your nerves.

“Well,” he admits, “I guess I owe him one. ‘Cuz you were not supposed to tackle him.”

“Right!” Taehyung concurs.

“And you were not supposed to disappear!” Jungkook chimes in, pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. His voice is tinged with reproach. “You…”

“Guys,” you interject. What the fuck.

Jungkook sighs, full attention on you. You try your hardest to not look at the creepy crowd to your left, friends and acquaintances standing there as if they’re about to sacrifice you to a demon.

“He was supposed to lead you here, but somehow we didn’t manage to pull it through,” Jungkook says.

His words leave you pondering. You have not the darndest clue about what’s going on. So you ask, “We?”

“Your…” The assembled group draws near, a few of your friends holding various items. “Your paper.”

Huh…

They’re carrying indiscernible things. And a pie, and…

“Of course I remembered your paper, baby,” Jungkook declares.

Oh, wait. Is that what you think it is? Because if it is, then your instincts were entirely wrong today. Or the entire time since you received the news. Maybe you were just so out of your mind because of the general Halloween atmosphere?

What were you expecting… An axe murderer for real? Dammit…

No. It was much more obvious, yet impossible to figure out. This man. This man!

A wave of relief washes over you as you process his words. You think that now, you even understand what they’re all holding. Or what it’s for…

“So you weren’t…” You start.

You drift off, watching Jungkook shake his head. His response is heartfelt, his love and pride evident. He looks at you with infinite sweetness; but a lot of guilt, too.

“Jealous?” He finishes. “I’d be crazy to be. You’re part of me.”

His blinking is soft and the tongue licking his red lips shiny in the extremely faint starlight. You know he isn’t done yet, so you wait… Focus on the tingle on your skin.

“You are part of me,” he says again, “so I’ll celebrate any achievement of yours like it’s mine. And this was… is a huge fucking thing to happen for you.”

You feel your head tilt and the muscles in your face relax. Your lips move to a smile, parted to give way to the longest sigh known to humankind. But if you indulged in the cheesy interaction now, your friends would remind you of it every game night.

Which is why you get yourself together, postponing the screeching and second tackling to later when you’re alone again. You shake off some of the weakness he causes every day, and give into the urge to nudge teasingly.

“You’re such a jerk for scaring me like that.”

A playful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, as typical as can be. “I needed to make it Halloween-themed, Pumpkin. I’m sorry, but you know I had to.”

Your initial scolding turns into a loving retort, “I hate you.”

But the banter is short-lived as you lose against the surge of emotions, your hand moving to push him lightly once again before immediately lifting to his collar. You capture it, pulling him close to you until his wide eyes close and your lips collide.

In the background, you hear an instant chorus of “Aww”s, but grunts, too. Among the cooing, you hear a mumbled speech about how you need to get a room, but you only react with a smile against his mouth. You kiss him deeper, tongues gently intermingling.

And just when the hand holding the back of your head slips to your lower back, pressing you into him, the shiver becomes unbearable. Emotions shoot through your body and down between your legs – so you stop.

For a couple seconds longer, you look at whatever you can see from his eyes in the dark, flashing a smile. He rounds his lips and releases air through them, a temptingly silent way to let you know that you affected him.

You ignore it for your mentality’s sake, moving away from him to look at your friends. You cough and gesture to the objects in their hands, asking, “What’s all this about?”

If you could see them, you’d probably see a mischievous twinkle in their eyes. Jin at least sounds like it as he beckons you closer with a nod, ready to reveal whatever they’ve orchestrated for you.

You already expected the answer to your question, but the wrapping confirms your assumption. Gifts. Quite a few of them, bigger and smaller. As you move from one to the other, they announce the objects before you’re able to rip the paper off.

A friend gifts you a Swarovski Crystalline pen for your “Super fancy notes as you do your super fancy research.” Reflects their support for your scholarly pursuits, you guess.

Jimin surprises you with an exclusive album by your favourite group. Then, a little plushie to destress whenever you need, along with a college survival guide and “Sociology for Dummies” – all by Jin. Of course.

And lastly, a Lord of the Rings Lego set that you’ve desired for super long, a group effort. It’s a labor of love, for sure. A collective endeavor by friends who united to make your dreams come true – but honestly, who scared you to death, too.

You don’t know how you make it out of the forest again, still reprimanding Taehyung and Jungkook on your way out. Granted, you did get lost as a group once, and then found your beloved streetlamps again ten minutes later.

The treasures secured in a bag, Jungkook places them on your couch with a long and deep sigh once you arrive home, calming down from today’s hours. The night seemed endless. Wouldn’t finish – and you’re exhausted beyond measure.

But even through your falling eyelids, you manage one more expressive glance, pure disbelief hiding in your gaze as you say, “I absolutely didn’t expect any of this.”

Jungkook is a true mirror to you. Equally worn out, he lets his head fall a little, one hand still in the pocket of his pants. He looks ridiculously attractive, fatigue or not. Curls of his longer hair hang in his eyes as he rubs them, the smile gentle despite the sinister make up.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he says, voice low and quiet. “To be honest, I kinda felt bad halfway through.”

Ah. Explains the guilty eyes and voice. The way he attempted to apologize and grew all shy and quiet before you threw Taehyung to the ground.

“Don’t. The plan almost worked, and my heartbeat is still intact.” You laugh, punching his arm lightly. “But… Don’t do shit like that again next year.”

“I can’t promise it. You know that.”

You roll your eyes, watching him try to walk away – and you might not have held him back and grasped the dress shirt at the elbow if…

Is that the window creaking?

You gasp, still more on the edge than you expected, and throw a peek over your shoulder. You moved a couple weeks ago – there’s no way your place is already making these sounds. Or maybe that’s the reason after all… You should get to renovating.

“Was that you, too?” You ask, leaning into him with a cocked eyebrow.

“It was not. How would I do that?” He promises. His words are accompanied by movements; he’s walking around the living room now, as if he’s looking for something. “I’m not a ghost. Just the Joker.”

“A sly one, though…”

You look to the window again as he crams around in the box under your table, and appropriate to the holiday, you detect a harmless raven, perched on the windowsill. The sight elicits a small chuckle – but you don’t hear a sound from Jungkook.

When you turn back to him, you understand why. He’s distracted, still crouching. Then he gets up with… An object in his hand. No, two. Not any you carried home just now, but much smaller, thinner. Paper?

Idly, he walks back to you, fingers adorned in tattooed letters holding two cards toward you. You look into his eyes, confused and seeking answers silently, but he only holds the objects closer to you, urging you to take them.

“What’s that?” You ask.

“Read, and you’ll know.”

And when you oblige, you understand. Maybe the little celebration on the clearing didn’t quite end there. Because the inscription on the cards reveals that he put more thought into this than you knew.

The tiny party and group effort Lego set weren’t his only tokens of affection. The weekend getaway, resting in your hands and awaiting you next week, must be tonight’s finale. A prelude to the impending wave of tedious work. 

“As an escape. Even for just a moment,” Jungkook explains, reaching forward. His hand settles on your cheek and pulls your face up, meeting your eyes. “Just you and me.”

To bask in serenity and rejuvenation, is that it? Just you and him…

“Really?” You wonder, eyes knitted together, lips pouting. You’re drowning in fondness.

“I wanna give you all the relaxation you need, in any way. Big things ahead after that.”

“I’m… You didn’t ha–”

You only get this far, because his lips steal your breath and halt your speech midway. His hand cradles your face, the other arm slinging around your body. The grip holds you tight against him, the heels of your feet almost lifting off the floor.

The kiss won’t stop. Continues deeper. You’re careful to not crumple and crease the cards he gave you, but still wrap your arms around his neck, pushing harder into him. And the tongue… Fuck, this tongue…

When he moves back reluctantly to catch air, he’s panting; and your breath falls against his cheeks just as hot. Your lips are damp, craving more, and you draw closer, trying to feel all of him. The muscles, the embrace, the growing pleasure behind his pants and…

But he lets go, leaves you standing and dizzy. With a wink, he lightly pinches your cheek, thumb brushing against it and suggests, “I’ll head off to freshen up.”

But. No.

You’re not ready to let the moment slip away, no matter how tired you are. So you pull him back again, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you quietly utter a request.

“Don’t take it off just yet.” You say, seeing the way his eyes light up. He understands right away. “Clean up together?”

He smiles. Waits with his answer, busy gripping your wrist as gently as he can before he locks his fingers with yours. He starts pulling you into the direction of the bathroom at snail's pace, reaching to hold both your hands, walking backwards, and causes one last hour-long shiver for the night.

“I really do love every time we save up on water, you know?”

–

Let me know what you think!! Have a good Halloween, love you all and smooching you!!😘

[bunji-enthusiast]

Closer And Closer

Note || as requested by many, here is the sequel! This was a ton of fun to write 🤲

WC || 2,535

<(Previous Part)> <(You are here)>

Sypnosis || With your new friend in hand, you begin earning some unexpected honesty—and new understandings.

Once, there was a dream. Sometimes it would recur, coming back to you in the encroaching depths of your mind no matter how much you wanted to stop dreaming this very same dream. It was always on and off, how it can always come back–like a nightmare–just how can one describe it?

People can forget their own dreams long after they wake up, lest they be lucky to want to write down the dream. So you were one and the same, the trepidation always sneaking upon you, like an approaching danger that will never fail to make your nerves stand on end. 

“Mommy,” You tugged at the hem of the woman’s dress, a baby trapped within a limited consciousness; yearning for love, curiosity and just always wanting to be around your parents. It’s natural and in nature for a young child to always want their parents. “Why are you gonna be gone for so long?”

Oh, that sweet, sweet voice. How adorable could you be? The woman just looked down upon your small form with a smile, so very reminiscent of motherly love. Only a mother could bring a kind of peace like that to their child, the woman thought. She crouched down to your level, patting the crown of your head with a gentle hand, so very gentle as you remember her even gentler heartbeat. A voice came from her mouth, words carried with a saccharine tone. “My little sweet apple pie, it is only a work trip!” She giggled, then wrapped her arms around you and held you close. Causing you to giggle as well, laughter so joyous even the woman holding you now couldn’t help but feel such joy because of you alone. “I’ll be back before you can say Poppies!”

You look up at her, strangely the woman’s face was misty, enshrouded by black shadows. As if reality didn’t want you to see her, your own mother. Still, a smile remained upon your face as you nodded at the woman. “Hehe! Okay, mom.”

Slowly you blinked, the world suddenly began disappearing from sight, the environment twisting upon your peripherals. 

“What?”

You groan audibly, cursing to yourself under your breath. “Of-fucking-course.” 

Slowly, You remember where you are now. A hand comes into your view and holds you steady, a very familiar one. 

“Don’t get up too quickly, you will get weary Angel.” His voice warns, it still seemed so strained and worn worse for wear. Just what kind of things had Catnap done to DogDay? Perhaps you shouldn’t worry about it, something like that is a very personal thing to ask about, no doubt. 

You coughed, pounding on your chest as you slowly rose awake. Your companion had been waiting calmly for you to collect yourself, but that had made him a little worried as he winced when you coughed. Slowly enough, you ease yourself into standing with DogDay’s help, all that jumping and landing seriously hurt your body a great deal. No wonder you were exhausted as hell right now.

Right, no time to worry about that now. It was time to be more worried about what to do next, “DogDay, you think you can handle being carried around by me in that state?” You asked with an airy tone, you didn’t want to be too loud and accidentally attract any nearby toys who are under Catnap’s influence. DogDay slumped for a moment, most likely still very worn out from probably the way he had been hanged. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling everything coursing through him, he was very much here and alive.

He always had been continually reminded of this very thing.

Reminded of Catnap.

“No need to worry about me, Angel.” Your companion spoke, his fur ruffling about in his movements. You probably were gonna have to do something about that later, DogDay sorely needed some cleaning up. “I am tougher than you think.” 

It seemed his words carried a half-hearted weight, carrying no affirmed meaning to them. You looked at DogDay incredulously, clear as night and day that you knew this well; worn out, tired and cramping for a plan to end the Prototype. You’ve never gotten a good look at the Prototype, only a few times you have gotten a good look at the Prototype’s hand–there must be a whole body from beyond the shadow’s.

Awaiting, no doubt terrifying too. But, you dealt with adrenaline rushes and terrifying monsters from the moment you stepped foot into the abandoned Playtime Co. 

“Ah, well, just tell me if anything is bothering you.” You nodded at him, patting down your clothing, the dust falling in your wake. DogDay was quiet for a moment, taking a hand-step back as he looked around at the environment once more. He was considering something, considering how to go about the next phase of the way. 

“No safe places here, nothing good.” For a moment, you swore that you had seen his mouth contorting into a frown–though in every Smiling Critter, they always are smiling–So this was completely new, different somehow. “My apologies Angel, safe places are rare to find.” DogDay sighed, he in a sense was habitually instinctive to keep his loved ones safe; going so far as to make sure they have a good sleep. Even if it meant at the cost of his own health. 

He cared deeply for his friends, but they were gone now. Catnap was someone he could not recognize anymore, that wasn’t his friend.

DogDay’s only focus was making sure you are alive and safe.

Something of which is admittedly difficult to do, knowing all the horrors that had occurred in Playtime Co. but it wasn’t too troubling for someone like you. DogDay was glad for you about that, impressed even that you had managed to survive thus far before you had met him. 

You patted his head, causing him to look back at you. “Nothing to apologize for! Everyone’s just… a little too crazy nowadays.” You mutter, walking over to a dusty pile and finding a tape. There seemed to be thousands of these tapes all around the Factory, some of which you could’ve sworn recording yourself. 

Being a former employee for Playtime Co. is one thing to say, but being an engineer was a different process. You were only involved in the works of designing and constructing, not once had you ever really got hand in hand with actually building things. But you were highly proud of the work you had done and completed alongside your fellow co-workers, looking back on it now… all it had done simply saddened you.

How it seemed to be the way that the toys seemed to be so lifeless, once so full of joy, love and empathy for everyone in this place all together.

You wouldn’t mind turning back the clock and doing good for once more, the right way this time. When everything was said and done, the toys you came across were well justified in their anger for being abandoned–but you weren’t looking to be on the top list of being killed either. Considering how you had gotten lucky apparently by quitting the day before your co-workers had all disappeared.

Getting through this place was no trouble, you remember some good places of this Factory like the back of your hand. Huggy Wuggy, Kissy Missy of whom is his spouse, was rather different to the likes of the tall-blue furred beast. Rather inconceivable in behaviors, Kissy Missy was a perturbed ally, one you didn’t expect. All the toys you met so far, (save for Poppy, and Kissy Missy) had full intentions to kill you from going any further.

This Factory is a whole goddamn amalgamation of mysteries you weren’t sure you wanted to solve anymore. Let alone having any trust in every being you come across now too, how disturbing must this get? You sure as hell weren’t Elliot Ludwig. 

“I simply wish I could be of more help.” DogDay recounted with a mournful tune, breaking you out of your thoughts and consolation. You frown at him, wanting to offer comfort: the words could not come through. He shuffled around to begin looking for things too, but now something had crossed your mind. 

You still couldn’t piece together almost everything between DogDay and Catnap, some things he had said back at the heretic altar had stuck with you. Until now it was dismissable, out of sight and out of mind you supposed. Though you recounted some thoughts that had warmed you in ways you didn’t expect, at first meet he already was of great character–someone you truly wanted to be around.

The repugnant smell that had always seemed to be invading your senses was gone now, this particular area was an untouched one. “DogDay… do you mind if I ask you something?” You spoke, stepping over the rubbish and noting the sound footsteps that echo in your wake. Don’t walk too much, this area may be empty but it didn’t mean that Catnap wasn’t watching. That cat was terrifying to you. Permeating nightmares had run endlessly through your mind, and his gas before when calling back on previous close counters with the obsessed follower of the prototype were far too close. 

Continually he had gone about looking for anything that may be of assistance to you both, still he had spoken in reply, “Angel, I will answer anything. You deserve as such.” DogDay recounted, noting what he had said to you before you fell to the slumbers of sweet, sweet sleep. 

Cool, cool cool… that was dandy and nice of him. You just weren’t sure how to articulate the very question that lays burning in your mouth, for fear of the fact you might be gazed upon with ranicid and covert questioning, like an ornery old bitch. Pointedly you stepped around the rubble, in turn you came across an old set-up, as if there used to be children here. A blanket laying upon the ground and the ravaged pillows, still in condition that you could say that was okay to be recycled for use. Still quite in a-okay position to sit down on, waiting for DogDay to finish scrambling around.

“So,” You began, lacing your fingers together and intertwining them purely out of your nerves spiking in your body as of right now. “What’s… the deal between you and Catnap?” Abruptly, at those words, his very being felt as if he tensed up. You couldn’t read him right now, suddenly incomprehensible to understand. 

“I suppose you should know about it, in order to really understand Catnap.” He motioned, steadily crawling over to where you sat. “Catnap was someone you could get along great with, quiet and not much of a talker, but actions speak louder than words Angel.” 

Then, there was a lapse in his words; DogDay was doing his best to keep himself steady and calm. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to fall apart in front of you, that is not very leader-like of someone such as DogDay.

“Oh, his actions spoke so much more for him than one little word.” He nodded, laying his head upon his crossed arms. DogDay had made himself comfortable as he shifted to a proper position. “But, things happened. Very bad things.” You were albeit surprised he was willingly sharing such information with you, as personal as it would appear. 

Still, you had remained muted, this was something that could conceivably help you in dealing with the nightmare cat later on. “Something had happened to him, something I wasn’t aware of. Angel, he.. wasn’t the same Catnap. He wasn’t my friend anymore.” Now, you could understand this well.

You yourself never had a good trade off within all your relationships, no matter what kind of relationship it was… be it; platonic, romantic, friends even! Humans are odd and sometimes indescribable in nature, but it simply has always been this way. But friends change, sometimes partially and even supernaturally.

In DogDay’s case, it was gruesome and religious. Catnap by no means was someone to act fool with, something you could pick out with merely just from first impressions. In passing, this was no offense whatsoever–personally that cat looked scary as hell.

“All my friends just,” Then, DogDay allowed himself to breathe again once more. “I wouldn’t wish it even on my own worst enemy.”

“The Prototype?” You snorted, shifting your weight from one end to the other as you gave him a benign quizzical look. 

“Angel.”

“I'm messing with you!” 

You waved him off, then put your hands in your lap. It was oddly endearing in how you behaved, the normalcy around here is rare, DogDay would admit. “So it seems, Prototype is his god. I don’t understand every detail, but The Prototype saved him.” He beckoned, recounting the mention of the Prototype from not even two minutes ago. 

“So Catnap began viewing this, Prototype as such?” You finished for him, tilting your head. Your companion nodded, lifting his head to recover proper eye contact with you. 

“Poppy, the rest who are on your side want nothing more to end the terror of the Prototype’s reign. Come to save me Angel, I thank you so much for that.” Honesty was a fickle thing for DogDay since recalling recent events, but had it come to you? The fearless dog didn’t mind. 

“Oh it’s nothing to be thanked for,” You grin at him, ever so slightly. But he’ll take that, “You were in so much pain. That’s a position no innocent person, or toy deserves to be in.”

DogDay had to consider this for a moment, so much consideration had been done lately. Yet, it was all done to simply understand the chaos underlying this factory, no doubt it had caused a lot of trauma (to many in this place) alone. “You're right about that, Angel, I suppose I had gotten too comfortable in all my reckless decadence.” Willfully, he was well aware of his actions as a leader. Some of which he had questioned why he had made them.

Your hand on his ragged-torn furred head had snapped DogDay out of his conscious thoughts, “We all deserve peace, that means you too DogDay.” 

You were right.

It seems there are still many things to be learned.

“You are far too kind to me.” He sighed, leaning into your hand. You never moved your hand away from him. 

“Though we should probably get you cleaned up.” That sentence alone suddenly broke the comfortable atmosphere, still much rather comedic however. 

“Right,” DogDay barked, as if he really was laughing. His whole body shook, it was rather a wave of happiness. Something he had not often felt, it had almost shocked him a little. “I believe they would have some bandages and towels nearby, water too.” Your companion then noted it would most likely be at a medical station somewhere.

You raised a brow at this, causing DogDay to nod with an air of laughter about him as he spoke once more whilst you had hoisted him over your shoulders. “I worked with children quite more often than not, you would be surprised at the amount of things that happen during playtime Angel.”

[Taglist: @zacklover24 ]

[the-newlymadeweeb]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

[dira333]

Nightmare remedies - Bakugo x Reader

For @satorisoup because some BNHA episodes can be triggering - Join My Taglist

Katsuki is dead.

You’ve forgotten how to breathe, your heart beating so hard against your ribcage you fear the bones might break. 

Not far from you, bleeding out on the ground, is your lover, eyes open and empty.

You can’t even scream as your lungs fight for just a little bit more oxygen-

“Baby?!” Your whole body shakes and then your back, blinking into the bright lights of your living room. “Baby, breathe!” 

Katsuki’s holding you now, your body pressed so tightly against his you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. But it helps as you breathe in tune with him. In and out. In and out.

“What happened?” You manage to mumble, voice hoarse, mouth dry.

“You fell asleep on the couch. I was just in the bathroom brushing my teeth, getting ready when I heard a weird noise. Were you even breathing? You went really still!”

He sounds worried. You sink further into his touch, press your mouth against his collarbone where his shirt slipped down. It tastes like him, feels like him. He’s real. Alive and real.

“You died, Katsuki,” you whimper, digging your nails into your shoulders. “You died.”

“Shh, no, it was a bad dream.” He rocks you back and forth, gentle, gentle. “I’m here. I’m here.”

You don’t want to talk about your dream. Katsuki’s not forcing you to. He’s not a stranger to nightmares, knows how persistent they can be. 

You don’t have to explain. He lifts you with ease, carries you like one does a child, legs folded over his hip, your head resting on his beating heart. 

He’s okay. He’s alive. He’s real.

“Want something to eat?” He asks, walking through the brightly lit apartment with you tied to him. “An apple, maybe? Here, drink some water.”

“Can we take a bath?” You ask instead. He sighs, but relents, dropping almost a whole bottle of bath oil into the tub. The good one, that he bought you for when you have trouble sleeping. The water turns a deep, sparkling purple and you sink into it’s warmth only to lean back into him, his arms crossing in front of you.

“Tell me something funny,” you ask, rubbing his knees that are now on either side of you, popping out of the water like pale islands. 

“Something funny,” he drawls, resting his chin on the top of your head as he thinks. “Ah. Do you remember the dog that Shoto found? The one he thinks looks like me?”

“The pomeranian?” You giggle. “Of course, I remember him. I wanted him so bad.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Of course you do. Well, apparently the dog needs to be fostered and Shoto volunteered. He named him Kacchan.”

You gasp. “Can we get him? It would be so cute!”

“No.” Katsuki splashes you with water. “One Kacchan in this house is enough.”

“But-” He bites your ear, gently, but hard enough to make a point.

“A cat then?” You ask, leaning back far enough to grin up at him. “I saw one that looked a little like Deku.”

“I don’t want some furrspawn watch me make out with you.”

“Katsuki,” you whine, half-laughing. “They don’t do that.”

“That’s what you’re saying.” He huffs, his big hands rubbing your legs. “But I know better.”

You snuggle into him, let the warm water and the soothing scents do their thing.

A yawn works itself out of you.

“But-” you start again, only to stop. You forgot the rest of your argument.

Katsuki kisses the top of your head.

“Relax,” he mutters, “I’ve got you.”

You wake up in your bed, the sunlight kissing your face.

Katsuki’s snoring softly next to you, one arm curled around you, keeping you safe.

The nightmare has lost its bite, but your hand still moves to his chest, your fingertips searching for the rise and fall, the beat of his heart. 

Katsuki grumbles low in his throat and pulls you closer.

He’s real. He’s alive. He’s yours.

[ma1dita]

to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind.

This was your reality. 

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred. 

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet. 

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship. 

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to?

Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you almost as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm. 

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs. 

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure. 

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely. 

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress.

To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds. 

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, Trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, Trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same. 

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your… Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too. 

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his. 

“Get them.” 

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied. 

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart. 

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it.

You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away? 

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda. 

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin. 

For a moment, it feels like you. 

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce. 

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this. 

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement. 

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

 ½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303  @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

[wub-fur-radio]

Psychedelic Psounds of Pseptember 2024

Blowing in to town like a desert wind in a late summer California heat wave, Wub-Fur presents another rocking and eclectic streaming mix of new psychedelic indie rock music for your listening pleasure. Featuring hot hits and cool tracks by Ty Segall, the Shivas, Oh Sees, King Gizzard, Mountain Movers, Black Market Karma, Causa Sui, Meatbodies, and a half dozen more bands who know why the P’s are silent.

▶︎🎶 Listen on Mixcloud –or– Apple Music

Running Time: 1 hour, 4 seconds

Tracklist

Intro: Intro by Connections (0:13)

Can't Do That (5:21) — ORB | Geelong, Australia

Nightmare Song (3:09) — The Shivas | Portland, OR

Drug City (2:52) — Oh Sees | Los Angeles, CA

Field of Vision (3:33) — King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard | Melbourne, Australia

I Hear (4:29) — Ty Segall | Los Angeles, CA

Oozer (3:33) — Black Market Karma | Dover, UK

Dusk Dwellers (5:14) — Causa Sui | Denmark

My Holy Shrine (4:06) — Mountain Movers | New Haven, CT

Daisy (3:38) — The Silk RailRoad | Portland, OR

Noche Luna (5:05) — Pez Globo | Argentina

Anthropia (6:59) — Karkara | Toulouse, France

Rescue (5:41) — The Asteroid No.4 | San Francisco, CA

Psychic Garden (4:45) — Meatbodies | Los Angeles, CA

Aurora (1:26) — Valley of the Sun | Cincinnati, OH

All tracks released in 2024 (except, if you want to get technical about it, the 13-second intro, which is from 2018).